Escape
by marvellouswords
Summary: Callie Jacob swears she is living a nightmare. Things are bad in her current foster home and she knows she has to make some grown up decisions if she and Jude are to survive. Callie can feel herself collapsing and hoping for a miracle. Just when she thinks there is no end to the universe's horrible tricks, what if her coveted luck arrives in the form of a blonde cop?
1. Nightmare

_Hello! This idea has been floating around my head for a while, and I finally sat down to write it. It's pretty different from what I've written before, and definitely quite graphic and deals with heavy subjects such as abuse and mistreatment - so if you're sensitive to issues like this, then please keep that in mind. It's rated teen for a reason. _

_Background knowledge: set around the time of the pilot, although Callie was never sent to __juvie and the events leading to her being sent there in the show haven't happened yet (she and Jude are still in their foster father's house). Apart from that, everything we know leading up to the pilot and before the show started is the same. _

_This will be a multi-chaptered story, and I will still be continuing with my other story 'Redemption'. Enjoy!_

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She stands at the stove, watching her little brother as he fills in the answers for his math homework, his face pulled into a tight frown. He gnaws on his pencil hungrily, and she chuckles a little, making a passing comment as she ruffles his hair on her way to the fridge. "Don't eat all that pencil, buddy. You won't be hungry for dinner."

He sticks his tongue out at her before turning back to the unsolved problem, groaning when his frustration begins to take over. She knows he's struggling – in fact, struggling is a euphemism, Jude is failing, but she can't bring herself to admit it. On the grand scheme of things, it's not something she really has time to worry about. But she'll make time; she always does.

She's chopping bacon on the counter when she feels his stare. He's been long distracted from his homework, but she hadn't wanted to see the disappointment on his face when she told him he had to continue. But she knows it'll have to be done soon. There's too many things to do tonight, and she knows they won't get much peace when _he_ gets home from work, or the bar, or _wherever_ it is that he spends his afternoons killing his liver with alcohol.

She sighs, looking around at the twelve-year-old boy. He is everything to her. For as long as she can remember, she's cared for him as if he were her own child. She makes sure he's eaten before she does, she bathes him, makes sure his homework is done, but most importantly, she shelters him from the terrible world they live in. She would do anything for her baby brother, and wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet if it came to that – she'd already taken countless beatings and punishments to protect him. The pain didn't bother her so long her younger sibling was safe. "Jude, just try one more and then I'll put the pasta on the stove to simmer and I'll help you. Okay?"

"Okay," he mumbles, turning back to the textbook and resuming his struggle against the trinomial equation.

She rubs her eyes, tired from barely three hours sleep the night before. Lance, their current foster father had stumbled in the front door past 1am, his state less than sober. He'd yelled at her when she said to keep the volume down, afraid Jude would waken; she didn't need him falling asleep in class again like he'd got in trouble for last week.

But her request had granted her more than yelling – the man had thrown the television remote at her, aiming for her head but missing and hitting her in the collarbone. This morning she'd woken to a garish bruise and an aching shoulder, although nothing she couldn't cover with a loose sweater. After all, she had to be thankful – she had been on the later end of Lance's bad temper quite a few times before now, each of which had been significantly worse than this little incident. It was easier, she'd discovered, when he was wasted – he was too buzzed to focus on anything for more than a few moments at a time, meaning it was easy for her to escape his tight grasps and tormenting words.

She places the ingredients for their makeshift dinner in the pan and settles it on the stove whilst making a mental note to ask Lance for money to go grocery shopping – there isn't much in the fridge, and she shudders, recalling a foster home years ago where the mom had 'forgotten' to feed them. The Jacob siblings had, thankfully, been removed by Bill before they'd starved to death, but the memory of her jutting collarbones and the thin skin stretched over her ribs is still something that shakes her to this day.

"Can you help me now?"

She turns to face her brother, shaking herself out of her thoughts and running her hands through her brown hair which hangs loose around her shoulders. "Sure, baby. Which one are you stuck on?"

His pencil hovers over the question, and Callie adverts her eyes to it. Within a passing glance, the answer rolls off her tongue. "Sixteen."

She wanders toward the cutlery drawer, pulling out the necessities as Jude scribbles down the answer. She doesn't miss his sigh of defeat as his sister manages to succumb the answer first time, and her heart softens for the boy.

"And this one?" He asks, pointing back down at the paper just as she's beginning to lay the table.

Shuffling back over to him, Callie takes a moment to register the question, her eyebrows furrowing. "No, you know that. What do you have to do?"

He looks at her, his eyes wide, whether it's because he's embarrassed or just genuinely confused, she doesn't know. "You have to divide it by the '_Y',"_ she prompts, only to receive another hesitated pause from Jude. Callie sighs. She _knows_ that Jude should be able to get the answer, but her heart breaks for the little boy and she wishes that she could help him make up for the work he'd missed through all the school changes the pair had been through. "It's four. The answer's four," she says reluctantly, pushing his head playfully before setting the final cutlery down. "you should have known that."

"No, _you_ should have known that!" he retorts playfully, a grin spreading across his face.

She shakes her head at his humour. "I _did_ know that!"

"No you _didn't_!"

"Yeah, I _did_!"

"_Na-uh_!"

"Yeaaah!" she teases, grabbing Jude around the middle playfully, tickling him despite his protests to stop. "So _cheeky!"_

"Noooo! Stop!" Jude laughs, his squeals causing Callie to giggle as they roll around the kitchen's workbench.

"_You _stop!" she charades, fluffing his hair with her hands as she squeezes him close to her.

"What the _hell_ is goin' on in here?"

The voice sends the siblings flying apart from each other, their giggles subdued to pants as they regain their breath. She stands from the bench, glaring at their foster father before wandering back over to the stove. She wasn't expecting him home for hours yet, and his entrance worries her, especially now that her and Jude's fooling around has subsequently soured his already grim mood.

The middle-aged man walks further into the kitchen. "Keep the noise down, alright? I'm sick and tired of hearing you scream like a girl!" he warns, proceeding through to the living room.

"I'm not a girl," Jude mumbles, but not quite quiet enough.

"Jude…" Callie warns, her heartbeat rising as she secretly pleads that Lance didn't hear her brother's comment. Talking back was _never_ a good idea, especially not in _this_ house – Callie had learned and paid for that within the first week of their placement.

But as usual, luck wasn't on her side. The man stops in his tracks, whipping around so fast his beer belly jiggles over his belt-clad jeans. "What did you say?" His eyes flair with anger.

Callie glares at Jude, pleading him not to respond, but the younger boy has a look of determination in his hazel eyes. "I said, 'I'm _not_ a girl'!"

"Well, you sure sounded like one to me. But I don't know…maybe I should see for myself?" His voice is laced with sleazy humour, but to Callie, nothing about this ordeal is funny. The look of determination that once crossed Jude's face has dissipated into one of the scared little boy he represented the majority of their lives, and although the confusion about exactly _what_ Lance was implying is clear in his eyes, the fear radiates off his body as he sits up straight in his seat.

Callie feels sick. She eyes her little brother, taking in his shrunken stance and watering eyes, before looking towards the large, greasy man imposing their safety net of the kitchen table. Callie tried never to let anything hurt her little brother, not in the six years they'd been in foster care, but sometimes a smack on the face or a shove into the wall was inevitable. It always hurt ten times over to see Jude injured rather than herself, in fact, Callie would take a beating every day for the rest of her life knowing her brother would be somewhere safe. But what Callie refused to let happen was for Jude to be violated in ways that no child should be.

She thinks back to the first time it happened, a shiver running up her spine. She had been twelve, no older than Jude is now. The guy had said that if she didn't let him look at her, then he'd beat her and Jude so hard that they'd rather be dead with the pain. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't bear to see her baby brother hurt. So she let him; she let the man squeeze her tiny, pre-puberty breasts in his coarse-skinned hands. She bit down on her lip hard as he slipped his fingers down her jeans, and she closed her eyes. She thought about her mom, and how she'd dance around in the kitchen to the Beatles as they made biscuits and gravy together on rainy days. She thought about the warm hugs and soft kisses she used to place on Callie's head every night before she fell asleep. And somehow, no matter how morbid, no matter how much she would hate to see her mother's reaction to what she had just allowed to happen, the thought of the woman who had brought her into this world got her through the man's terrible crime. It didn't happen again after that, and she liked to think it was because her mom was protecting her.

She'd given up on that idea when she and Jude were moved into the Olmstead's, though.

Lance lets out a throaty laugh that almost sounds like a growl. "Don't look so scared; if you've got nothin' to hide then there's no need to worry, right?"

It's in that moment that Callie becomes aware of her surroundings again. The thoughts of previous foster homes slip to the corner of her mind, and she looks around. She will _not_ let what happened to her happen to her baby brother.

Lance is standing close to Jude, his stare tormenting the small boy as he tries to keep the tears at bay. Callie is frozen, terrified of what the man's next steps will be. Her usual adrenaline has been slaughtered by the fear of what's about to happen, and despite the fact that her brain is yelling for her to _do something_, her feet are routed to the sticky linoleum floor.

"Leave me alone!" Jude growls with as much force as his trembling body can muster. "Stay away from me, you asshole!"

Normally Callie would reprimand Jude of his cursing, but in this moment, something that's almost like pride formulates in her as she watches Jude stand up for himself. Although really, this isn't the kind of situation she'd wished to feel pride for, in fact, she'd rather he were standing up to the boys who bully him at school for wearing the same shirt three times a week.

She's almost too wrapped up on how on earth she can feel something as ridiculous as proud in this terrifying situation that she doesn't see Lance's fist grasp the neck of Jude's shirt. The sound of the wooden bench scraping back on the floor is what alerts her to what's happening around her. This time, though, she's able to snap out of her frozen state, and she crosses the room in four agile strides, just in time to hear Jude cry out as the man shoves a pointed finger in his chest.

"What did you just call me?!" he roars, his face close to Jude's, who has tears running down his face now. "WHAT ON EARTH GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?"

If it had been any other time, Callie would be struggling to supress a laugh at the complete irony of his comment. Of course the man who had been verbally, and often physically, abusing her and her brother would question the morality of said foster children.

But right now, Callie wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to laugh again.

"Get _off_ of him!" She launches herself in between Jude and her foster father, pushing her brother behind her back, shielding him of the negative force towering over them.

She backs up to the wall, Jude still behind her as the man encroaches toward them. She doesn't think about what's going to come, she doesn't think about _anything_ other than getting Jude out of the room right now before Lance begins to get _really_ angry.

He's not stupid, though, much to Callie's dismay. He knows what she's trying to do when she slides her and Jude's conjoined unit farther along the wall to the back door. And he takes the time to enjoy watching her struggle to get Jude to safety before he comes around behind them, grabbing Jude by the arm and pulling him from behind Callie's human shield.

"_You_ need to learn that it's not OK to talk to people like that!" Lance's voice is hard and unforgiving as he smacks Jude hard across the face. His yelp makes Callie's knees go weak, and her head snaps around to face her brother as he reaches to clutch his swollen cheek. Lance lets out a snort, "See, screams just like a girl!"

"Stay away from him!" Callie yells. Her blood boiling in her veins with hate for the man before her, she acts on adrenaline and launches herself towards him, pushing his shoulders with all her strength. But the action doesn't grant the outcome she'd desired – Lance barely loses his footing – and instead brings out more rage from the depths of Lance's monstrous heart.

"Is that all you've got?" he says, laughing incredulously.

"Callie," Jude wails from behind, causing her to shift her attention to the trembling boy. His eyes are wide with fear and his face is red from tears and Callie wants nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and whisper soothing words of comfort into his ears.

Instead, Callie forces a smile and whispers, "Jude, baby. Go upstairs. I'll be up in a sec, okay?"

He looks reluctant to leave, and Callie finds his eyes with hers, pleading him to go. She needs to make sure he's safe – she will _not_ let him get hurt again.

Before she can see if her brother follows her request, she feels a hand grab a fistful of her hair and her head is yanked around to face Lance's sneering grin. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"You're hurting me," she says sharply as she tries to pull out of his grasp, but it only makes his hold on her tighten.

"Oh yeah? Well it's going to hurt a lot more if you don't start showin' me some respect, alright? You kids are nothin' but trouble around here, especially that _fag_ of a brother of yours."

She doesn't know why, but the comment angers her. Deep down, she knows Jude is different. She knows he is sensitive and emotionally intuitive, and that's what makes him special. She'll love him no matter what – he's her baby brother, after all. She'd do anything for him. But to insult his sexuality – something she _knew_ Jude had become curious about now that he was surrounded by older kids in a middle school environment – was something she was most definitely _not_ okay with.

"Don't you _ever _speak about him like that," Callie growls, finally pulling herself free of Lance's grasp a fistful of hair lighter and a new tender spot on her head. But she barely feels the pain as she sees the look that crosses over Lance's face, a look that say's he didn't quite expect her to react.

He raises his sausage like finger and wiggles it in front of Callie's face as he leans in close to her. She almost gags when she smells the whiskey on his breath as spit flies out his mouth with his clipped words. "You've got a lot of cheek tellin' me how to speak, girl."

She stands ridged, looking firmly into Lance's eyes as she mutters, "Well, you won't have to worry about that for much longer."

"What you gonna do, huh?" he scoffs, gripping Callie's chin between his thumb and forefinger roughly. "run away?"

Right then, as Callie looks into the man's bloodshot eyes – yellow from years of drinking and probably undiagnosed diabetes – she doesn't have a definitive answer. She knows that she could survive out on the streets; she'd encountered plenty girls her age in similar situations, but with Jude, that option could never stand. She wouldn't really consider submitting her baby brother into a life of extreme poverty, crime and danger, would she? The thought of having Jude out on the street, freezing and almost starving to death, had once made her shudder, but now she doesn't scold herself for contemplating the idea at all – in fact, right in this moment, unknowing of what could come, with this large, blusterous man swinging his fist tauntingly around her face, running away to the streets with Jude _did_ seem like the better option. She'd do anything to get them out of the grasp of this beastly man. But as she drags her eyes away from Lance's reddening face and flicks them to where Jude stands with his hands clamped over his ears, in her heart, she _knows _that she would never be able to keep them both alive out on the streets. She knows that Jude needs to stay in school so he can go to college one day and become a successful doctor or businessman or _whatever_ he dreams to be. If she made the decision to run away, she wouldn't ever be able to give him that. The foster system sucks ass, but at least it provides them with a roof over their heads and demands they be in some form of education – on the streets, these were the things they would lack, and unfortunately, the things they really need the most.

"You're lucky you're even still in this house, darlin'." She shivers at the pet name in disgust. She'd never be anybody's _darlin', _and she certainly didn't want to be _his. "_Now, say you're sorry for disrespecting me."

She looks at the man before her in confusion, not quite believing that he was going to let her go so easy. She hadn't been the one showing disrespect, of course, but she'd take this any day over a beating. Besides, who is she to question his command when he could have already taken a swing at her face by now had he wanted to? "I'm…uhh…I'm sorry," she mumbles, the words lumpy in her mouth.

He's quiet for a moment, and she lets her muscles relax slightly, recognising this as an ending to the heated encounter. Usually, after a run in with Lance, the man would offer a stare down before hauling himself in front of the TV for the rest of the evening, leaving Callie to tend to whichever bumps or bruises he had given to her.

But of course, she was foolish to believe things could be made right with such little reprimands. "What was that?" he challenges, voice again laced with sarcasm, causing her to inwardly groan.

She tenses her stature, readying herself from what's about to come. She won't speak – she won't let him make her apologise for his wrongdoings when he's most likely going to hit her anyway. At least now the hits are meaningful; he won't get the satisfaction of thinking he's lured her into a false sense of security this way.

She can sense it coming before the heel of his hand cracks against her cheekbone, but she doesn't bother wasting her vigour to duck out of his way this time; she'd need that energy later on if he began to target her in more vulnerable areas, or if he, god forbid, decided to go after Jude again.

She eyes Lance carefully as he bellows on about how she's '_nothing but a piece of no-good filth' _and that his money would be _'better off feeding a pack of dogs_' than her, waiting for just the right moment to provoke him so Jude could slip up the stairs unnoticed. As he blusters on, holding her against the wall by her shirt, Callie takes the opportunity to divert her eyes to Jude. His body trembles as he watches the scene unfold before him, and the sight sickens Callie.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?"

At the voice, she whips her head back around and restates her focus back on the lumbering man before her, just as he begins to shake her by the shoulders. "I thought I told you to listen to me!"

"Jude, go upstairs!" she shouts, her head rattling on her shoulders as Lance's grip tightens on her forearms. But her request isn't met. Jude stands frozen, his mouth forming a distinct O shape as beads of salt water begin to roll down his face.

"Obviously, I didn't make it clear enough," Lance growls, loosening his grip on her arms, only to bring his hands around her neck.

But where Callie should feel fear, fear for the fact that he could end her life by snapping her neck in just seconds, she see's the fact that his hands are occupied, and her stature is relatively stilled, as an opportunity that she'll never have again.

As the man barks insult after insult at her, she bends her knee and brings it up hard into his groin, forcefully hitting him in his private areas. She hopes that it'll teach him not to torment little boys about showing their gentiles, and lets out a gleeful smile as the man releases his grip from her neck and clutches his crotch in pain.

She knows better than to laugh, but she can't help but revel at Lance's exposure to her world of hurt. She takes a moment then to look at Jude, hoping he will share the same sense of fulfilment that she finally managed to get him back. But Jude's face doesn't hold even a trace of a smile, in fact, his tears seem to have dried up and his skin is sheet white. For a fleeting moment, she wonders if maybe Jude is hurt more than she anticipated – maybe his head hit the wall in the collision with Lance and he has some kind of weird concussion thing? What if there is a bleed in his brain, couldn't people die from that? Just as she's about to rush over to her brother, he lets out a tentative whisper, his eyes wide as they look past her shrinking form. "Callie…"

Before she can register Jude's warning, there is a fist in her hair and her head is yanked back harshly, and a hand plummeting its way towards her face. The hot pain sends white stars into her vision, and just as she's beginning to stand up, the fist is back, hitting her over and over.

She bites down on her tongue, trying hard not to let the screams of excruciating pain escape her lips as to not scare Jude, but when she feels her head smack off the hardwood floor and a foot in her stomach, the air escapes her lungs in a throaty wail. She shakily rolls onto her stomach in a feeble attempt to defend herself before Lance moves onto the next round of kicking, and raises her head weakly to scan the room for Jude. Through her blurry, darkening vision, her little brother is nowhere to be seen, but instead of the usual panic she'd feel when Jude is out of her line of sight, she feels relief. He'll have gone upstairs, just like she told him to. He'll be safe up there.

With the immediate sense of security that Jude is safe, and the thumping ache residing in her head and much of her body, it doesn't quite hit Callie that the next round of kicks hasn't come yet. Instead, she relishes the quiet, and almost allows for the blackness to pull her under – until she hears the distinct click, metal against metal, of a revolver.

Her body is numb now and she can almost hear the blood rushing around in her head. Somehow, she has to find the energy to run, to get away from this man and his gun – and if all else fails, at least stand over Jude. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she'd take a bullet for him – she just never really thought that it would _actually_ come to that. Callie wonders if this is what it is like to wake up living a nightmare, just as in Kafka's _The Metamorphosis_, a text she had been studying in English class. She hasn't finished the novella yet, but somehow, she hopes that things get better for the protagonist, Gregor. It strikes her now that Gregor's character is almost a little like herself; closed off and seen only as a burden. She hopes that he found someone who understood him – if she were part of such a fictional universe, she would definitely take the time to get to know the creature he had become. That's all anyone really needs; to be understood. And it's something that Callie has never been given any experience of.

What she didn't know, though, is that things didn't get better for Gregor. And by the looks of things, Callie was following in his footsteps.

She doesn't hear anything for a while, and this scares her. What if Lance has gone upstairs to get Jude? Here she is, lying sprawled out on the floor pondering the ending of some stupid book, when she should be upstairs protecting her baby brother from that man. He has a freaking _gun!_

Just the thought of Jude being in close proximity to Lance without her being there to protect him sends adrenaline rushing through Callie's veins. She heaves herself to her feet, putting the hot, sharp pain to the back of her mind as she focuses on the task ahead of her. Her vision is clouded with black spots, and her hearing is muffled from the pulsing throb in her head, but that doesn't stop the devastating crack of the gun penetrating her eardrums.

"Jude!" she screams, limbs trembling with fear as she forces herself forward. After pathetically stumbling around the room, she reaches the staircase, mentally kicking herself for letting her guard down. How did she not know he had a gun? How could she have just let herself be defeated like this and leave Jude practically helpless at the hands of a monster like Lance?

But the questions go unanswered as she is stopped in her formidable excursion upstairs by a hollow knock on the front door. She doesn't know who it could possibly be, Lance only keeps a few friends as far as she has observed, but if it did happen to be one of his drinking buddies, then she couldn't be more thankful.

The knocking starts again after a moment of silence, and Callie wonders if she should use her small amount energy to get the door, or if she should try and diffuse the situation upstairs. The noise from the gunshot still rings in her ears, and the decision to be with Jude sends her struggling up the stairs, but before she can even master the first step, Lance's heaving footsteps vibrate against the wood and he appears on the landing.

"You," he says, locking eyes with Callie and lunging for her. He grabs her roughly by the arm and drags her callously round the corner. "Stay in here." She is shoved into the cupboard under the stairs, and before she has the chance to respond, the door is shut promptly in her face, a blanket of darkness enveloping her.

She listens as he trudges away, her head beginning to pound again and her bones screaming in pain. She is no longer numb here in the dark, unknowing to where her brother is or what Lance will do to them next. Here, in the dark, she is living a nightmare. And, much like Gregor Samsa, she is afraid that she will never wake up.

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_Thanks for reading - please review. - K :)_


	2. San Ysidro's Finest

Stefanie Foster looks down at her watch. It's silver and the ticker is encrusted with a tiny diamond. Really, it's much too fancy to be wearing to work – much less in a neighbourhood so far south she might as well be in Mexico – but last night, her girlfriend had given it to her as a present for their ten-year anniversary, and she had immediately fallen in love with the gift.

Now, however, she sighs wanting nothing more than to be home eating dinner with her family instead of in this garish neighbourhood that reminds her all too much of the place her adoptive twins, Jesus and Mariana had been raised in for their first few years of life.

Turning to her new partner, who just so happens to be her ex-husband and the father to her first son, she raises an eyebrow. "Prank?"

"Wouldn't be surprising in this kind of neighbourhood," Mike replies, raising his fist to pound the door one last time.

If there was one thing Stef hated, it was time wasters and after the long day she'd had, she could really do without some juvenile delinquents testing her patience and wasting the state's money sending a unit all the way out here.

She takes a moment to study her surroundings. The yard is filled with withered plants that look like they haven't been tended to in years, and the grass is an overgrown forest of weeds and yellowing vegetation. She steps back a moment, the rotten wood of the front porch creaking under her weight, and peers through the window. The curtains are pulled over the dirt stained glass roughly, but she can see inside enough to tell that a light is on round the back somewhere. Just as she's about to turn her back on the house, she hears the padding of feet coming from inside, and she retakes her position by the front door where Mike is fiddling with his radio.

"Mike," she says urgently, as she hears the deadbolt on the other side of the door jiggle. The officer widens his eyes in question, but before Stef can explain, the door is pulled inward to reveal a large, red-faced man.

He studies the officers before him, his eyes lingering for a particularly lengthy time on Stef, before saying, "Can I help you?"

She tries not to feel intimidated by his stare, but something about the man makes the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. After involuntarily shuddering, she pulls herself together and clears her throat. "Hi, I'm Officer Stefanie Foster from the San Diego Police Department, and this is my partner, Officer Mike Foster. We're here regarding a call requesting our service made by someone at this residence."

The man looks between Stef and Mike suspiciously, letting out a puff of air between chapped lips. Stef can't help but feel nauseous at the stench of alcohol coming from him, but swallows the bile in her throat as to not let down her professional front.

"Look, I don't know who made that call and brought you all down here, but I ain't got nothin' to do with it, alright."

Mike sighs, and Stef can tell he's just as tired as she is. Their day hadn't started out great – Stef hadn't exactly been the kindest to him when she had discovered he had asked to be her partner – and she can tell he's still bothered by their tense non-work related conversations that had occurred throughout the working day

Mike unfolds his arms and straightens his stance, ready to make an exit. "I'm sorry to bother you, then, sir. We'll be on our-"

"Are you sure? Maybe it was someone else in the house? A wife or family member, maybe?" Stef interrupts, not quite ready to let this go to rest. Unlike Mike, Stef can tell just by the far off look in the large man's eyes, not to mention the brewery in his mouth, that this situation isn't just a mishap in the system.

The man ponders her words for a moment, reaching a hand up to scratch his nose. "Nope. Ain't got any of them lyin' around here."

His choice of words makes Stef scowl, but before her inner feminist can reprimand him, Mike is already backing up from the door. "Alright, then. Sorry to bother you. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"I will, believe me. I will," the man replies, a glint in his eye that makes Stef want to vomit. Frankly, she's quite thankful that they are leaving now and that she'll be out from under that sleazy man's sordid stare, but she can't help but feel a little niggle that something isn't quite right – that she should have dug a little deeper.

He watches as both officers walk out the front yard and enter the cruiser, only shutting the door and returning inside when Mike starts the engine up. Stef stares at the house and shudders again. Its squalid exterior matches the personality of its owner, and just looking at the place makes her feel uncomfortable.

"Nice guy, huh?" Mike jokes, settling his radio back into his belt before placing his hands back on the steering wheel. Stef takes one last glance at the house, and her breath catches as she spots a small, pale face peaking through the curtain in the front upstairs window.

"Stef?" Mike says, noticing the normally calm, collected blonde's change in demeanour.

She blinks, trying to clear her head, but when she looks back at the window, the face of the kid is nowhere to be seen. Surely she couldn't have imagined it, could she? But she must have – the guy said he didn't have any family, right? The comment he made in regards to her questioning _that_ matter is something that she won't be able to forget for a while.

"Hmm?" she answers Mike as he begins to puts the car into drive.

"You kinda spaced out for a bit," he chuckles, though looking slightly concerned.

"Come on. Let's get out of here." _It's been a long day, that's all,_ she thinks to herself. _All I need is some of Lena's homemade lasagne and a nice quiet night in with my babies. _

But despite Stef's words of encouragement to herself, she knows that she won't be able to sleep tonight – not without knowing what's really going on in that house.

* * *

_Thank you SO much for all your reviews/favourites/follows! I didn't expect to receive as big a response as that overnight, and it really made me smile to know that people actually read this. I hope you enjoyed this chapter from Stef's point of view...and hopefully it'll start to answer some questions. _

_Please leave your thoughts in a review, they really encourage me!_

_-K. :)_


	3. Halfway Pain

Callie doesn't know how long she's been in the closet, but the tight, pulsing sensation coming from inside her head makes her think it's been a longer stay rather than a shorter one. Of course, she had been locked in closets before – as a child, it had been some of her previous foster parent's favourite punishments – and at the time, she had _hated_ it. She hated the darkness and the loneliness, but unlike most children who were scared of the dark, Callie had never been afraid of ghouls and ghosts; no, she knew the real type of monsters were the people from _this_ world, who unfortunately made up a great proportion of all the adults she had encountered in her life.

But this time, as her tears fall silently, she isn't afraid of the dark. This time, she's afraid of the quiet – she hasn't heard a peep from Jude or Lance aside from a muffled conversation he had when answering the door, and the lack of movement worries her immensely. She _needs_ to know that Jude is okay. She doesn't even want to think about what Lance could have done to him in the time she's been locked down here, and prays that the silence is a good thing.

Time passes slowly. The dizziness rattling around her head from the beating and the pain settling in her aching bones soon turns into anxious nausea. She doesn't feel good at all and she wishes she could curl up and give into sleep, but without too much reluctance, she forces the thought aside. No matter how tempting it sounds, she has to be ready – he could come for her at any time and being caught off guard by his presence would never end well.

Just as Callie's head droops to the side with lethargy for what must be the tenth time, she hears a small shuffling noise come from above her, which she immediately recognises to be the sound of feet on the stairs. At first, her body tenses with fright. Despite her ability to keep herself awake, she doesn't think she'll be able to endure her foster father's temper again tonight. But the fear soon passes when her lumpy brain realises that the footsteps do not sound heavy and careless like Lances, but quiet and delicate like her baby brother's.

She makes an attempt to sit up slightly, groaning when her tailbone seems to protest against the movement, but nonetheless continuing with the action to try and avoid scaring Jude with her hunched over stature. He can't see her like this – it'll only upset him, and he's already seen quite enough to give him a sleepless night tonight.

Within seconds of the noise above quieting, she hears the floorboards creak and, eventually, the door to the cupboard opens. Callie squints her eyes, the light from the hallway a stark contrast from the blackness of the tiny cupboard, but she can't help but let out a small breath of relief when she see's Jude's face in front of her.

She moves into a squatting position and brings her trembling hand up to his pale skin, whispering, "Baby, are you okay?"

Jude nods slightly before pressing a finger up to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. "He's passed out on the chair in the living room."

Sighing at his words, Callie begins to stand, but ultimately tumbles as the pain in her stomach screams with her movement. Jude's eyes widen in horror, but neither sibling dares make a sound in fear of waking up the monster in the east of the house.

Callie knows it's a long shot that he'll wake up – when he's got a drink in him, she swears the man could sleep for a year – but that doesn't stop her taking every precaution to avoid it happening.

With a little assistance from Jude, the pair make their way out of the cupboard and engage their descent upstairs. She knows they've made it; they're safe – for now, anyway. Their injuries aren't as awful as they could have been considering a gun was involved, and at least she can relax knowing Lance is passed out for the night.

When they reach the top of the stairs the siblings hover at the landing, and Callie knows from experience what's about to come.

"Can I sleep with you tonight, Callie?" Jude asks, almost timidly in a small voice.

Despite her attempts to try and break the bed-sharing habits in previous, less abusive homes, being placed in Lance's care had brought the siblings closer than ever, and sharing a bed had become a somewhat regular occurrence. In fact, the idea of having Jude so close to her brings her great comfort – just knowing he's safe in her arms allows her to sleep. She dreads the day that he'll grow up and realise that he doesn't need her to protect him anymore, because deep down, she needs him as much as he needs her.

She sends her brother a reassuring smile and squeezes his shoulder. "Sure, bud. You go down the hall and get your PJs on. I'm just going to use the bathroom."

After promising Jude that she'd be okay, Callie hobbles herself over to the bathroom. She lets out a deflated breath as she looks at herself in the mirror. Pressing hard at her eyes to stop the tears from falling, she runs the tap and flicks cold water onto her battered face, hoping the cool liquid will sooth the darkening bruises beginning to form on her cheeks. Her lip isn't much better, and the cut stings slightly as she tries to rinse away the dried blood. She's sure she has some concealer in her duffle bag somewhere, but while that might just cover the bruises, she's not sure she'll be able to hide all the evidence of her foster father's beating.

Being mindful of her busted lip, Callie quickly brushes her teeth and drags a comb through her hair before heading back through to the bedroom. She notices the duvet has been pulled back and her pyjamas are lying out on her pillow and can't help but smile at her baby brother who sits patiently waiting for her to return.

Jude turns his back as she changes, but he turns to stare in horror at the marks on her back from Lance's metal-capped boots. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, but ignores him, not wanting to make a big deal of her injuries.

"Did he hit you again?" she asks, placing today's clothes in the hamper by the door. "When you came up here?"

The younger boy shakes his head, looking down at his knees. Callie frowns, not believing her brother, and hoping he wasn't following her example of hiding her injuries.

When Jude sees that Callie isn't satisfied with his response, he sighs. "The gun…"

Callie pales, and begins to feel lightheaded. It's not like she hadn't known what Lance's intentions were when he had taken out his gun and gone upstairs, but it chilled her to actually hear it being said out loud.

"I hid in my bedroom and pushed the nightstand against the door, just like we did in Jim's house when he had the tennis racket," Jude explains, mistaking Callie's lack of response for lack of understanding. "He, um, he fired at the door handle, I guess."

The number of _what if's_ swirling through Callie's head are enough to make her almost pass out. If that bullet had been shot just a little bit higher, it could have gone right through the door and straight into _Jude_. While she had been downstairs lying on the floor, her baby brother was almost _shot._

"Callie? Are you okay?"

She blinks, looking towards Jude and taking in the red mark beginning to form on his right cheek. _How can he be so…calm? He was almost shot, for god's sake!_

But right in that moment, after processing Jude's story, the way he'd taken himself to safety, she doesn't feel proud that her brother had managed to mimic her safety tactics – she feels terribly guilty. So guilty that she had left him alone to fight of a man who is three times his size. Guilty that she wasn't there to protect him.

Guilty that he still had the memory from so early in his childhood where one of their first foster parents came after them with a tennis racket, where she promised his tiny, eight year old face, that nothing like this would ever happen again.

It _had_ happened again, though, and this time, both of them could have been killed.

She swallows the lump in her throat that threatens to release a sob and gives Jude a small smile. "Yeah. I'm good, buddy. Let's get to bed, okay?"

The two lay in bed, Jude curled up in Callie's arms as she rests her face in his sweet smelling hair. Though both are silent, neither of the siblings is quite able to fall asleep after the night's terrifying ordeal that's all too familiar.

"I'm sorry, Callie."

She stiffens slightly at his words, before pulling him around to face her slightly. "You don't have to be sorry, Baby."

"Yes I do. I hate that you got hurt because of me," Jude says, his voice teary.

"Hey," she whispers, wiping a tear from his cheek. "You didn't do anything wrong, okay? That bastard is the one who should be sorry."

Jude's mouth curves into a small smile at her cussing, and she knows it was the right thing to say. She pulls him close to her and places a soft kiss on his forehead, but just as she thinks that Jude's done for the night, he speaks again.

"Did it hurt?"

Callie's heartbeat quickens as a lie tumbles from her mouth. "What? My lip? Nah, it's just a little scrape. Nothing for you to worry about."

"No, your back," Jude says pointedly, pulling away from Callie and looking her in the eye.

She gulps, feeling uncomfortable under his stare and guilty for lying to him. She shakes her head slightly, "Jude…"

"I saw it, you know. It's purple, Callie; it looks really bad."

"I guess it does hurt a bit," she says before she can stop herself. "But I'm sure it'll be fine by the morning, okay?"

He studies her, and although Callie knows he doesn't believe her lie, she's grateful when he doesn't push her to answer further. Instead, she diverts the topic to him. "Are _you_ okay? You know, I'm proud of you for doing that…for pushing the nightstand against the door."

She feels Jude smile against her, and he begins to retell exactly how he carried out his actions with enthusiasm, although Callie can't quite help but feel how wrong this whole situation is – how Jude is describing the moments up to his near death with such…excitement.

One thing, though, catches Callie off guard. "Wait, what?"

"While he was…kicking you…after you told me to go upstairs, I went to the phone. I know you told me not to, but Callie…it was really bad. He was kicking you so hard and there was blood coming out your mouth. I got scared and I called the police."

"Jude…" Callie begins, ready to lecture him on the danger of calling the police. Callie had been led to distrust police officers too many times. At first, it baffled her how the people who were supposed to keep people safe always managed to fail her and Jude, but, after many years of unjust situations throughout her time in the foster system, Callie had learned that not even a police officer would give her the benefit over the doubt as soon as they found out she was just a trashy foster kid.

"I _know_, Callie," Jude says harshly, startling her a little. "But if I hadn't called, then Lance…he wouldn't have stopped when he did."

She furrows her brow; trying to track her fuzzy mind back to the moments she spent practically passed out on the kitchen floor. "What do you mean?"

"The police at the door. That's what distracted him and stopped him getting into my room."

Callie is stunned, the pieces finally coming together. Of course, it hadn't been one of her foster father's drinking buddies – that explains why he's lying passed out on the chair by the TV and isn't out on a bender.

"Oh my god," she whispers, almost inaudible.

"_See!"_ Jude snaps, irritated at his sister for chastening him.

But Callie doesn't blame him for his harshness – in fact, it was Jude who had saved them tonight. If he hadn't called the police, at least one of them would be dead right now.

Pulling Jude close to her again, she closes her eyes and tells him they should get some sleep because they have school tomorrow and have to get up early.

"I love you, Callie," Jude whispers, seeming to have shaken out of his little funk from moments earlier.

She kisses his head again lightly, breathing in his warmth and relishing his innocence. "I love you too, Baby."

While Jude sleeps, Callie's brain is alert. She won't be able to sleep tonight, despite the fact that she _knows_ Lance is too drunk to wake up, never mind climb the stairs to their room, but another thought also niggles at the back of her mind.

Tonight, a police officer very much saved her and Jude's lives, and for once, she doesn't have trouble accepting it. In essence, it feels like her whole world has been revaluated – just like when her mom died. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to fully trust the police force, but she sure as hell knows that officer is someone she'll be eternally grateful to.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, and again, thanks for all your reviews and interest in the story! Things are a little slow for now, but they'll pick up soon. _

_Please review and let me know what you think - K :)_


	4. Family Antics

"Hi babies," Stef chimes as she walks in the back door, smiling as she inhales the scent of Lena's homemade lasagne. Her three children – or _teenagers_, rather – sit at the kitchen table, each occupied by something other than their food. Stef raises her eyebrow towards her partner, confused as to why she hasn't scolded the kids for having phones – or in Brandon's case, his music sheets – out at the table, knowing that out of the pair, she is the mom who likes her family to actually be present at the dinner table. But as she goes to place a kiss on Lena's lips, the caramel skinned woman lets out an exasperated sigh and all but sinks into Stef's arms.

"Rough day?" Stef questions, holding the woman who has become her wife for all intensive purposes.

"You can say that again," Lena replies, pulling out of the embrace and reaching for the casserole dish in the centre of the table to plate up a piece of lasagne for the blonde. "Yourself?"

"My day was…interesting," Stef says, her mind flashing back to the neighbourhood she'd just come from and the odd situation she'd come across at that house. She just couldn't quite shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

"Oh yeah? Well, try asking these three what they've been up to today. I've barely been able to get anything out of them all afternoon."

Stef chuckles slightly, popping open a bottle of beer from the fridge and coming to sit down next to Lena.

"They've been glued to those things for hours, I swear." Lena states, taking a bite of food.

"Oh yeah, well then I guess they'll be sick of seeing them and won't need them for the rest of the week, right?" Stef says loudly, hoping to catch at least one of her kid's attention.

"You might just be right," Lena replies, a smile crossing her before flustered looking face.

Brandon looks up, and holds up his hands. "Hey – in my defence, I've been trying to perfect this piece for the final of my competition tomorrow."

"I see what you're trying to do, young man. Buttering me up won't make up for neglecting your mama all afternoon when she needed help…"

Mariana is next to look up, the conversation at the dinner table now beginning to register that she is in need to defend herself. "Okay, _not_ fair. I asked Mama if she needed help–"

"And I said once you'd done all your homework," Lena interjects. "Which I'm assuming you _have_ done…because if not, then I would definitely think about getting it done as soon as we've finished eating so you have enough time to clear up all these dishes before bed."

The look on Mariana's face tells the moms that the latter half of Lena's statement applies to not only her, but her siblings, too and Stef has to hide the smile behind an exaggerated scowl as she tells her daughter to hand the phone over. "That goes for you too, Jesus," she says to the boy who seems to be very much focused on the screen of his iPhone.

"But _Mom_! Lexi is having a crisis right now. She needs me," Mariana pouts as she reluctantly slides her cell phone across the table. Stef shakes her head. She loves her daughter more than anything, but sometimes, that girl is just too dramatic for her own good.

"And I bet Lexi will be able to resolve her crisis just fine without your input for a while."

Following suit with his sister, although not releasing as much as a grumble, Jesus passes his phone over to his mom, which only leaves Brandon who, thankfully, seems to have caught on to his parent's warnings, and has tucked his papers to the side.

This time, it's Stef who lets out a sigh. She's barely been home ten minutes, and she already feels exhausted. No wonder Lena was feeling flustered earlier. It's not like they have bad kids, in fact, the three are generally well behaved and are some of the nicest kids Stef has ever come across in her life – and that's not because she's their mom that she's inclined to say that. Being a police officer, Stef has seen a lot of kids in her life, and she knows just how vicious some can be. She really lucked out with her three, but she also knows that not all kids are quite as fortunate to have the privileged upbringing she and Lena have given their family.

They had taken in children from the state on quite a few occasions, in fact, that was how the twins ended up becoming a permanent part of the family. Stef remembers the day that she came across Jesus and Mariana timidly sitting in the police station. She knew right then that these kids were special and deserved more than the bad hand they'd been dealt. As it turns out, foster-adopting them was the best thing that ever happened to her family.

None of the children they've fostered since have quite wrapped their way round Stef's heart, but through the experience, she knows that the feeling of being able to give kids a soft place to land for at least a little while is a good one. But, tonight is a perfect example of why they _really _don't need another kid permanently running around the house – three is quite the handful as it is.

When all members of the family finally settled down to actually _eat_ dinner, the event proved to be successful. Stef loves spending time with her family, and without all the distractions, she and Lena are really able to be the parents they wished _they_'_d_ had and are able actually talk to each of their kids and find out what's been going on in their lives, no matter how big, or small.

After monitoring the kids to make sure they completed their homework and cleaned the dishes without any upheaval, Stef and Lena retired to their room for the evening. Although only a little past nine o'clock, Stef's yawns have been coming closer and closer together as she and Lena sit on the bed folding laundry together. "God, you really must've had a rough day, huh?"

Stef smiles and brings a pair of pyjama pants out of the hamper to fold. "Not a match for yours, my love. I gotta give you credit for not losing it with those kids today before I got home."

Lena chuckles and shakes her head. "Oh I lost it, a good couple of times, in fact. They just weren't around to hear it. That's why I waited for _you_ to come home and do the punishing."

"I'm sorry they didn't listen to you, Love. I know how much you hate them overusing their phones and such." Stef squeezes her hand comfortingly before resuming her folding.

"What can I say; they're teenagers. They'll realise soon that there are more important things going on and that the world doesn't simply revolve around those little electronic devices." She sighs, and runs her hands through her wild curls, securing them into a bun on top of her head. "Anyway. Your day. How was it? I didn't really give you much time to explain earlier before I went off on you about the kids."

Lena's ever conscious efforts to take an interest in her partner's work life never fail to warm Stef's heart, mostly because the blonde knows how uncomfortable her profession makes Lena, but also because it feels nice to have a partner who actually cares about her feelings – unlike how her relationship had been with Mike. Speaking of Mike…

"Yeah, it was interesting. Wrote out a few parking tickets and chased a speeding car. But actually, we were called down to San Ysidro."

"San Ysidro?" Lena almost gasps, pausing her folding and giving her full attention to her partner. Stef begins to question whether telling Lena at all about her altercation with the man is a perilous idea, considering she's already cautious about the mention of the neighbourhood. "Isn't that a little out of your range?"

"Yeah, I guess," Stef replies, choosing to ignore the twisted look on her girlfriend's face, knowing full well that with the next part of the story, her face will only sour further. "But anyway, we pull up outside this house – totally rough, I mean, I could tell by the neighbourhood anyway that we weren't in the nicest of areas, but this house was peeling. It looked so brittle that it would go up in flames with a spark."

"God…but wait, why were you called all the way out there?"

"The guy who answered didn't have any memory of making the call – he didn't know anything about it. I got a weird feeling from him, though," Stef says, the memory of his stinking breath sending a shiver down her spine.

"Well, at least you didn't have to go inside his house or anything, especially if he made you feel uncomfortable," Lena adds, and Stef practically holds her tongue so not to voice her disagreement. Under any normal circumstance, she would gladly keep her distance from such an area as San Ysidro, not to mention that man's house, but right now, Stef would give anything to turn back the clock and act on her earlier suspicion that something wasn't quite right. She knows if she tells Lena this, though, that it will lead to an unavoidable questioning over something that she still hasn't fully wrapped her own head around yet. She hates keeping things from the woman she loves, but is there really any need to shovel the exhausting niggle that's been lingering at the back of her mind onto Lena, too? She has the family to think about, and bringing work-related problems home was never a good idea. Besides, it's probably _nothing_.

Lena leans across the bed, placing the last of the folded laundry in the hamper, and Stef startles out of her thoughts. "Maybe next time you get called out to that area you could pass it on to someone else?"

Stef looks to her girlfriend, offering a feigned 'yes' and throwing in a sincere head nod for good measure, and is pleased when this satisfies the curly haired woman, although deep down she has every intentions of going back to that house to clear up her suspicions. She isn't really sure _when_ she made this decision, perhaps it had been right when they pulled away from the decrepit building, or when she replayed the conversation with the man in her head as she brushed her teeth within the last hour - but when Stef gets a haunch about something, it never gets laid to rest.

"Good. I don't really feel comfortable with you in that area if you don't have to be. You know what it's like there…"

She swallows guiltily, and for a moment she's afraid that Lena is speaking sarcastically, that maybe she hadn't been as discrete about her real intentions as she'd thought. But when the light goes out and Stef is greeted by the familiar feeling of Lena's icy feet against her legs, she knows that the woman still remains blissfully unaware of her real objectives. Stef takes a moment to hold her partner, nesting her face in the woman's sea of tousled curls and breathing in the scent of her shampoo with a light moan. With Lena all her worries are subdued, and although she loves her life, sometimes she misses the times when they weren't chasing after kids all the time; where they had time to just be in the present _together. _

Lena questions Stef some more about her day, showing particular interest in the man she had encountered and not even attempting to hide her annoyance as Stef tells her of the rude comments he'd made. "Sounds like a nice guy," Lena breathes sarcastically, causing Stef to chuckle slightly.

"Yeah, that's what Mike said, too."

Lena turns her head towards Stef, a questioning frown dawning on her face. "Mike?"

Stef's words are caught in her throat, realising just how deep a hole she's dug herself. After the quandary with the kids at dinner, and the constant niggle she felt towards the man in San Ysidro, the reinstating of her new _old_ partner had completely slipped her mind – or rather, informing Lena of the situation had slipped her mind, mostly because the blonde knew that it would not sit well with her girlfriend.

"Uh, Roberts actually put us together, since my old partner is out," Stef replies, skipping the part that _Mike_ had actually been the one to suggest to Captain Roberts that he and Stef work together.

Lena lets out an unenthusiastic laugh, and Stef inwardly cringes. "Oh please don't go all non-verbal on me, it is _not_ a big deal, Honey."

She looks at her sceptically, not making any effort to hide her distaste for the situation.

"Come on, Honey, it's _Mike_,_" _Stef says, attempting to squeeze Lena's hand, but the brunette pulls away. "it's just Mike."

"_Just Mike…"_ Lena echoes, shaking her head slightly, before shifting her body completely off of Stef and turning to face the wall.

"Look who's getting all clammed up!" Stef teases, hoping to diffuse the feud, but it's clear it has the opposite effect when Lena turns off her bedside lamp and floods the room in darkness.

_Well then, _Stef thinks to herself, mimicking Lena's actions and turning away from her partner, fully aware of how childish she's being. But in her defence, Lena should have heard her out before instantly over reacting to the situation – as much as Stef is uncomfortable with the arrangement, it's something they are all going to have to work through. Besides, she and Mike had been best friends once, and after the divorce, she'd somewhat lost that relationship with him. Thinking about it now, she does kind of miss his corny humour and down to earth nature, plus, it won't hurt to find out exactly what he's into these days, _especially_ since her son stays with him some weekends.

But deep down, Stef knows that if Lena is really that uncomfortable with her forming a friendship with Mike, she'll bother her captain for a new partner – but for now, she want's to see how this situation works out. It's better than being paired with a rookie, after all.

Mumbling a quiet 'I love you' to Lena – to which she receives no response – Stef closes her eyes and almost begs for sleep to come. Unfortunately, much as she'd feared previously, her mind travels back to earlier this evening, and she begins analysing the encounter for the hundredth time. While she's sure that she could regurgitate the conversation they'd had with the man word for word, she doesn't feel any further insight into exactly _what_ she feels was off about the case she'd landed herself in. All that she knows is that she isn't done with that place; especially if that _was_ a child's face she'd seen through the window. Just thinking of exposing any of her children to that man makes her feel ill, never mind the tiny little boy she'd spied through the window.

She yawns, her body physically fatigued and demanding sleep, but her mind hyper-alert. Making a promise to herself that tomorrow, she'll find out what's going on, she lets her eyes flutter closed and her mind rest for the night.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Little bit of a filler chapter here, but it covers some __necessary characterisation. Thank you SO much for all of your reviews! It's really encouraging to see people are enjoying the story. _

_I'd love to hear your thoughts and what you think is going to happen, so please leave a review! - K :)_


	5. Covering Up

The morning couldn't come quick enough for Callie. Her night had been lacking sleep and filled with deep-set dread and uncertainty. While her brother lay curled into her side, seeming to have no problem falling into a land of peaceful dreams, it had taken Callie's every strength not to get up and stretch her agitated legs. Every time the teen had come close to sleep, Lance's face would swim in front of her eyes, causing her to tense with fear and wrap her arms around Jude tighter and tighter. It never amounted to anything more than just her fuzzy, over-cautious mind playing tricks on her, yet she fell for it on every occasion until the rising, orange sun began to peak though the blinds and dawn broke the fear of darkness she had developed during the night.

Jude, however, was a little less impressed by the chirping birds and morning sun. Callie's tickles to wake him were met with squirms and a cranky pout, to which she couldn't help but giggle at before reinforcing her gesture so the younger boy would actually move. Jude, always one to please his sister, eventually understood Callie's urgency to get ready, and hopped off the bed and hurried into his own room, leaving Callie to set about doing her morning routine.

It had been a little harder than she'd anticipated changing into her jeans and t-shirt. The kicking from last night had most definitely left its damage and her body was stiff and sore, but if she didn't think about it too much the pain wouldn't bother her. She knew from past experience that it would wear off throughout the day, and if things were still bad by the afternoon then she could always take some Tylenol.

Now, freshly dressed, Callie swings her backpack over her shoulder and exits the bedroom. She makes a quick pit stop in the bathroom before heading out onto the landing, desperately hurrying to cover the redish bruise spreading across her swollen face by dabbing on light coloured makeup. She forces a smile as she gazes into the mirror, and tries to convince herself that she looks fine, that no one will suspect she'd been beaten last night – the last thing she needs is a concerned teacher asking questions and news of her 'tattle tailing' getting back to Lance – but the smile dissipates when she notices her busted lip, and she knows that her hopes of looking somewhat normal have been tarnished. _It was a long shot, anyway_, she thinks to herself. _It's not as if I could actually ever look more than decent. Why should today be any different?_

If her mood hadn't been optimistic before, it certainly isn't now. Sighing, she runs a hand through her straight, dark hair, rearranging the front layers slightly to cover the creeping blue contusion around her jawbone. Somewhat content with her appearance, Callie heads out the bathroom and nearly collides with Jude.

"Woah, hey, Bud. You ready to go?"

The boy looks unsure, his gaze cast downwards and his hands clasped firmly around the straps of his backpack. Callie can tell instantly what he's thinking.

"We have to go, Jude. Last night isn't the kind of thing we can miss school for," she states, trying to catch Jude's line of vision.

"I know," he sighs, looking up into Callie's eyes. "It's just…" Trailing off, he shakes his head before turning to go downstairs.

Confused by her brother's reluctance to share his thoughts, Callie places a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from leaving. "It's just _what_, Jude?"

"I, uh, I didn't get to finish my math homework last night."

Her face instantly softens, and her heart lurches for the younger boy. With the events of last night still fresh and whirling round her mind, Callie had forgotten about Jude's struggle with algebra and suddenly she feels an overwhelming sense of guilt. Perhaps if she spent more time with him, maybe slotted in some tutoring sessions, then he wouldn't look so worried about his first period algebra class every morning. Jude, unlike herself, makes no attempts to hide his emotions in front of his sibling, and Callie can always tell when the younger boy isn't quite right – but for lack of worrying herself, she had accepted Jude's pitiful _I'm fine's, _and almost tricked herself into believing that his struggle with school was something that he would somehow grow out of. But of course, it shouldn't have taken _this_ kind of wake up call for Callie to realize that if she doesn't help Jude fast, the teachers are going to want to speak to his parents. And somehow, Callie doesn't think they'll accept _her_ appearance at the teacher-parent consultation. The last thing they need is Lance finding out about Jude's slipping grades; they don't need another reason for the man to get angry.

Callie takes the stairs quietly with Jude following in the same manner behind, each of the siblings afraid of what they might walk into on the lower level of the house. After a quick assessment of the hallway and kitchen, Callie heads over to the pantry and pulls out a box of granola bars. Realising there is only one left, she tosses it to Jude before rinsing two mugs at the sink and filling them with tap water.

"But what about you?" Jude asks, turning the granola bar in his hands.

"I'll be fine," Callie assures him, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach. They hadn't been able to eat dinner last night after the incident, and she's pretty sure neither she nor Jude has eaten since yesterday's lunch at school. Jude's already on the skinny side, and she knows he won't be able to go twenty-four hours without food _and_ be able to concentrate at school, so it only seems fair that he gets the bar. If she could have it her way, he would be eating a more substantial breakfast of cereal or fruit, but getting to the grocery store is difficult during the week. Lance is barely ever home for mealtimes and doesn't really give much input into what the siblings eat anyway, never mind actually having the decency to buy supplies for the house. She'll have to find a way to get some groceries after school using some of the money she has saved for emergencies, and although she could ask Lance for money back, she doesn't want to have to be anywhere near the sleazy man. Asking for money so soon after an altercation like this would be like poking a crocodile with a stick; and of course, she'd be the one left with the scars from it's razor sharp teeth.

Finally finishing her last gulp of water, content with her new plan of action, she pats Jude on the shoulder. "Now, get your books. I'll help you with the homework on the bus."

oOo

Jude's homework takes under ten minutes for Callie to complete. Just one look to her younger brother's face tells her he had no clue how to go about rearranging the equations, and with the short bus journey and the tight deadline, Callie knows that it would never be done in time – or correctly – if she leaves it to Jude. So, as the young boy nibbles on his granola bar, Callie takes effort to write out the equations as best she can with the constant jumble of the moving bus in just enough time for them to pull up outside Jude's middle school.

Both siblings depart the bus at this stop, and Jude releases a huff of air as he secures his backpack back onto his back, completed homework assignment folded up safely inside. She looks at the boy, from his Skippy backpack and innocent, baby face, it's hard to believe that he's already twelve. But the boy's tender personality and caring nature almost makes him seem older than his short years, and that's something that makes Callie smile. Throughout all the terrible sights he's seen, the little boy still remains pure, and Callie's sure that's all her mom would ever ask of her.

Turning to walk the remaining two blocks to her school, Callie says, "Well, I'll see you after school, kay?"

"Okay," Jude nods solemnly, his eyes telling a different story.

Realising that her brother is perhaps taking last night a little harder than she had originally thought, Callie puts an arm around Jude and squeezes him tight against her side. She smooths his hair and places a kiss on his head before releasing him.

"Love you, Cal," he murmurs, a small smile on his face.

Pleased to see the previous uncertain look in his eyes gone, she returns his smile. "Love you too. Now go learn something!"

Giggling, he saunters off towards the school, leaving Callie able to lower her guard and release a breath. It's not that caring for Jude is hard work – he couldn't be better behaved if he tried – it's just the constant need to protect him, to prevent him from seeing the worry that almost permanently adorns her face, exhausts her to the point where she almost craves the hours they spend apart in their separate schools. School had always been one of Callie's favourite places, more so after she'd been placed into the foster system. It helps her focus on herself, knowing Jude isn't coming to any harm, and the schoolwork is always a welcomed distraction from whatever situation she's facing at the home she's in.

After watching Jude enter the school's gates Callie begins the walk round the block to her school, the California sun hot on her back and making her wish she had something other than the dark-wash jeans and deep green shirt to wear in such a heat. After a few minutes of walking past a series of run-down front yards, Callie begins to feel the high temperatures of the day take a toll on her energy levels. With little energy from the lack of sleep the night before, not to mention the growling of her stomach, she feels herself struggling to plow forward. The streets are quiet; the children from the middle school are long gone, and there isn't much traffic around this end of town at this time aside from the scheduled bus or occasional cop car.

Head pounding, Callie pulls herself into the edge of the sidewalk and balances her weak body on a peeling picket fence. _I just need a few minutes, that's all_, she tells herself, panting heavily as she slides down into a sitting position. _Just a quick rest and then I'll feel better. _

But as the sun rises further and its rays tickle her exposed skin, the sensation lulls Callie into a dehydrated slumber, leaving her slouched against the dirty old picket fence in a less than pleasant neighbourhood, exposed not only to the elements, but to whoever wishes to approach the sleeping girl's vulnerable form.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! A little bit of a cliffhanger here... ;)_

_But honestly, thank you endless amounts for your reviews because they really, really encourage me and it makes my heart smile to read your lovely words. _

_As always, let me know what you guys think, and maybe let me know what your predictions are for when Callie wakes up from her 'nap'!_

_- K :)_


	6. Chance Encounter

The bright morning seemed to send the Foster family into a flurry of excitement and happiness. All three kids had risen early and there had been no squabbles over showers so far. During breakfast, even Lena cracks a smile towards her girlfriend for the sake of keeping up appearances in front of the kids.

Stef, however, appears to be the only member of the family who is not on a 'summer-high' as Mariana calls it, the comment only earning her a showering of eye-rolls from her brothers. No, Stef is sure she is on a summer _low_, in fact. She had slept terribly, and her cranky mood is showing through her lack of interaction in the family's antics and her demands that Mariana go beg Lena for her phone back instead of herself. She doesn't want to fight with her wife, especially not over the man she'd left for _that very reason, _and it definitely isn't helping that they just happened to have run out of coffee. And caffeine is something that Stef _really_ needs.

Announcing that she needs to get to the station early, Stef grabs her lunch from the fridge and heads towards the front door, only to have Lena trailing behind her.

"Stef, wait."

She releases a breath, stopping in her tracks and turning round on her heel. "Yes?"

Lena looks to her with pleading eyes. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I just– I overreacted. I know neither of you had any choice in the matter, and I know it's probably difficult as it is having to work with Mike without me burdening you."

Stef's face softens, and she feels the little smidgen of resentment she held for Lena's actions last night dissipate, although its place is soon filled with guilt that she hadn't been completely honest. "It's okay."

"I don't want you to go to work angry, Stef…"

"I'm not angry, Love," Stef says, reaching out to take Lena's hand in hers. Slowly, she brings it up to her face and places a lingering kiss on the woman's caramel coloured knuckles. "I've got to run, though. I'll see you later, yes?"

"Remember, B has his competition tonight. We're eating an early dinner…" Lena almost sings, a wicked smile gracing her face, causing Stef to roll her eyes.

Shaking her head, she unlocks the front door. "I won't be late, if that's what you're implying?"

"Never!" Lena's eyes are wide as she jokes, and Stef finds herself giggling in response. It always amazes he that her wife can cheer her up doing just the simplest things like goofing off.

"Love you. And tell my babies I love them too."

With her cranky mood behind her, Stef takes a breath as she steps out the front door. The warm heat on her skin is nice, and despite her earlier pessimistic disregarding of Mariana's 'summer high' theory, Stef finds herself enjoying the sunny morning and smiles as she starts up her car.

The smile, however, is wiped from her face when she recalls yesterday's events. That house; that _man. _ There's no way she's _not_ going back – if nothing's wrong, then no one will have to know about it. Besides, she wouldn't be doing her job correctly if she didn't act on her intuition.

As she pulls out of the drive, she remembers she's on desk duty for the morning, but instead of the inward groan she would usually release at the thought of being cooped up in the office, the knowledge makes her almost giddy. It left a little leeway in her starting hours, and if Stef was fast, she could drive down to San Ysidro and back in less than forty-five minutes.

After driving for a good ten minutes, Stef finds herself in the midst of a morning rush hour tailback. Glancing nervously at her watch, she just knows that she'll never be able to make it down to San Ysidro in the time she'd allocated herself, and she sighs miserably. Not going _isn't _an option; the constant feeling that something was off had been twinkling in her mind all night. But Stef isn't about to lose her job for something that might be nothing more than just that - a _feeling_.

She pulls her cell phone from its position on her belt and places it on its stand in the centre console, eyeing the still stagnant traffic before pulling up Mike's caller ID. Stef drums her fingers on the leather steering wheel impatiently as she waits for the dial tone to give way to Mike's voice, once again running yesterday's scenario through her head. She can't tell Mike; he just won't understand. From the moment that man had professed to having no idea about that call, Mike had refused to see the situation for anything other than just a simple mishap. There would be no convincing him – his nature isn't exactly stubborn, but she knows that when it comes to doing things off the book, Mike isn't much of a rule bender. Whether it be because of her motherly instincts or just her simply unleashing her hidden tendency to over-analyse, Stef knows that she will get to the bottom of this – even if it means lying to the people around her.

Finally, a clicking sound comes through the speaker and a voice fills the quiet car. _"Hello?"_

"Mike. Hi," Stef replies, her voice slightly _too_ chirpy for 7:30am on a Friday morning as she tries to cover her sudden nerves. Now that she had finally gotten through to Mike, she's suddenly lost for words. Why hadn't she thought of some excuse before she had pressed the call button?

"_Is everything okay?"_ Mike asks, concern etching his raspy voice. Stef can't help but notice he sounds a little groggy, as if he's spent the night screaming his lungs out to a power ballad or two at a karaoke night at the bar, but soon brushes off the thought when she realises she hasn't answered Mike's question.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. Listen, I'm going to be a little bit late; I have to drop Mariana off at some dance field trip thing across town, but I'm in the office this morning anyway. I was just wondering if you'd cover for me if Captain asks?"

Silence fills the other end of the line, and Stef begins to worry that her lie was fumbly and cheap – technically Mariana wasn't on the dance team yet, but the teen had mentioned that try-outs were soon and that she was 'totally stoked' to be on one Anchor Beach's most successful teams. Besides, Mike is never really around the other kids all that much, only really at family events revolving around Brandon, so it's not like he'll ever find out.

"_Okay, sure," _he finally replies, just as traffic begins to move at a steady pace again. At his words, Stef releases a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding._ "But on one condition."_

"What's that?" she asks shakily, butterflies beginning to fill her stomach once again.

"_If I'm gonna be stuck in here all morning, you've got bring me some decent coffee that doesn't taste like sweaty water. And a donut wouldn't hurt, either…"_

She laughs incredulously at Mike's humour, shaking her head slightly. Of course, Mike would make this about food – nonetheless confirm every stereotype about cops being addicted to donuts. "Sure, sure."

"_We got a deal?" _

"Yup. I'll see you in an hour or so," she says, hanging up the phone. As she continues to drive south on the highway, it feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She has heaps of time now, and although she's not quite sure what to do when she gets to the house, at least she'll have her gun if things _do_ go badly…

Shaking her head, Stef curses herself for what must be the thousandth time in twenty-four hours. _I'm making this out to be a way bigger deal than it needs to be,_ she thinks to herself. _The guy is probably harmless, and I whatever I _thought_ I saw will have just been a shadow_.

While the blonde cop is strategically trying to guide her mind away from the pits of negativity, she turns off the highway and into the neighbourhood she'd found herself in yesterday; deep in the heart of San Ysidro. But the internal debate between pessimism and optimism is all but frozen when she catches sight of a slumped figure on the edge of the cracked sidewalk.

She doesn't think too much of it at first – it was almost common practice to see someone sprawled out on the sidewalk in _these_ kind of places, and most of the time, said person was passed out from some kind of illegal substance – but as she continues down the street, she looks back in her wing mirror and furrows her brow when she recognises the figure's petite frame and youthful stance.

Stef isn't sure what it is, but something compels her to pull her car over to the side and switch off the engine. She technically isn't on duty, and she does have somewhere to be, but much like the pressing feeling the situation last night brought her, seeing this figure seems to evoke the same emotion.

Slipping out the car, she allows herself a second to stretch off her stiff legs and gather her bearings. The street is fairly quiet, with a bus stop about two hundred yards away outside what looks to be a school or community building, and is lined with houses much like the area she'd been called to last night. Sucking in a breath, she begins to close the distance between herself and the person, the sun beating fiercely on her back making her feel claustrophobic in her black uniform.

Now closer, Stef can see that the mysterious figure is a young woman, choppy, brown hair sticking to her face as her head rests lazily in her knees. The girl is folded tight into a tiny package, almost as if she's trying to close in on herself as she lies still on the litter-clad sidewalk. The decrepit, rotting picket fence behind her teeters on the brink of destruction with the weight of her body leaning against it. Just looking at the girl's awkward positioning makes Stef frown. Her leather boots scrape the gravelly sidewalk and she's surprised when there is no movement from the girl, the lack of response beginning to concern her. _Surely she isn't…dead?_

Stef crouches shakily, placing one knee on the ground to support her body as she peers closer at the girl. A sense of relief comes over her when strands of hair dance around the girl's face with the pressure of air coming through her nose from her heavy, sleeping breaths. Not wanting to startle the girl, Stef stands back up before coughing quietly, hoping to make her presence known.

Still, there is no movement.

"Excuse me," she says, ringing her hands rather awkwardly. She isn't sure what to do exactly, but she can't just leave the girl here. Not only would it go against the duty of being a police officer (this would be a classic example of fulfilling the protect and serve status she'd acquired many years ago) but against her own morality, too. "Excuse me!" she repeats again with a little more force when the girl fails to respond.

Her attempt to awaken the girl succeeds, and Stef watches as her eyes peel open groggily and she stretches out her folded limbs.

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, the girl stiffens and begins to back farther into the fence she's leaning against. She looks up at Stef with wild eyes through the hair hanging around her face, and it's only then that the blonde realises she's not being seen as a protector, but as a threat.

"Woah, it's okay," Stef says, raising her hands in defence to show she doesn't mean any harm. However, the action doesn't seem to grant the girl much more security as she still eyes Stef nervously as she begins to scramble up into a standing position. "Do you need help up?"

The girl shakes her head no, her mouth clasped tight in a straight line and her face expressionless. "I'm fine," she says, now standing with her back against the fence, possibly as far away as from Stef as she can get.

Now the girl is standing, Stef studies her closely. Her dark hair covers much of her pale face, but even through her tough exterior Stef can tell that the girl is young – maybe only a little older than Mariana. She looks around anxiously, as if she's contemplating saying something, but the only noise that fills the air is the distant barking of a dog and the sound of an occasional car passing by.

"Well," Stef sighs after a moment, hoping to make eye contact with the girl. "I'm glad you're alright. I was kind of worried there when I saw you lying on the street."

Again, this doesn't seem to prompt an answer out of the girl, but she doesn't seem to be trying to leave, either. _Might as well just cut to the chase…_ "Have you got a place to stay?"

The girl's head whips round, and for the first time, her whole face is exposed to Stef. The sight of the purple bruises covering her cheeks and her swollen jaw makes Stef feel almost nauseous, but she tries her hardest not to stare too intensively at the girl now that she finally has her full attention.

Choosing to ignore her question, the girl shuffles on her feet awkwardly. "Do you, uh…do you have the time?"

Stef can't hide the confusion that comes across her face at the girl's question, although glances down at the diamond encrusted watch which bracelets her right wrist. "It's almost eight."

"Crap," the girl mutters, and Stef raises her eyebrow questioningly. "I have to get to school," she explains

"Do you need a ride anywhere?" Stef asks, gesturing towards her car parked along the street, forgetting that she doesn't have the patrol car with her, only her own vehicle. The girl barely trusts Stef as it is, and the lack of a cop car doesn't exactly help her case.

Much as she'd suspected, the girl looks towards Stef's parked car almost incredulously before tightening the grip on her backpack and starting to walk away. "No, thanks."

Stef sighs, feeling torn between letting the girl go off – she had clearly made it obvious that she didn't need her help – and pushing that little bit harder to see if she could find out more about her. "Listen," Stef begins, jogging slightly to catch up with the girl who is walking slightly laboured down the street.

The girl looks round at Stef's voice, her eyebrows raised slightly; any sign of fear she'd shown moments ago has been covered by a harsh, tough exterior. "What do you need?"

Stef almost laughs. "Me? Nothing. I'm just not one hundred per cent convinced that _you_ don't need anything."

"I said I was fine," the girl replies, her voice laced with attitude.

"Well, you don't _look_ fine." The girl tenses at Stef's words and self-consciously begins to tug at her hair, trying to cover her contused face. "I bet that cut on your lip is pretty sore."

They stand there for a moment, both seeming to analyse each other. Stef notes the girl's body language, which seems to have relaxed slightly since their first encounter a few moments ago, but looking into her eyes make's Stef's breath hitch in her throat. The girl's brown eyes are screaming words that don't seem to be exiting her mouth, and for a second, Stef's sure tears are going to spill over any moment. Stef purses her lips, about to offer some kind of condolence, but the girl seems to swallow her tears at this action and shuffles slightly in her position.

"Look, I have to get to school. Are we done here?" Just like that, the clipped tone has returned and the moment gone.

Nodding her head reluctantly, Stef moves out of the girl's way to let her pass. "Take care of yourself."

Taking her free exit card, the girl walks away, and Stef watches her try to hide the slight limp in her step. Inside, she's screaming at herself for not pushing the girl to speak, for not insisting that she explain the situation, because now Stef's afraid that wherever she got that busted lip is what drove her out to sleep on the streets - assuming that was what this was all about. But she can't do anything about it now. It _is_ just a girl, after all – she shouldn't be getting so attached to someone who she knows nothing about, anyway, never mind someone who was pretty rude to her.

Just as she's turning to go back to her car, Stef sees the girl has paused after only walking ten yards or so. "Uh…thank you," she says, her face significantly softer and voice light. "for waking me up."

Stef is stunned for a moment at the sudden personality change the girl shows, but is quick to respond, offering a warm smile as she continues to watch the girl. The girl gives a small, sheepish looking grin back before turning around and walking away so fast she's practically running.

For a moment, Stef stands there. In all honesty, she's rather perplexed about the whole situation that's just fallen out before her, and finds herself wanting to know more about this girl and to make sure that she really _is_ okay. It's only when she hears the familiar jingle of her cell phone sounding from the open car window that Stef shakes herself out of her thoughts and returns to her car.

She unlocks the phone to see a missed call from Mike and sighs. It's well past 8:15 now, and there is no way she'll be able to drive to the property from yesterday now she'd spent all this time with that girl. Putting the car into drive, she pulls onto the road and heads back towards the highway. Her investigation will have to wait, but now, the obnoxious man from the night before isn't the only thing that will be lingering in the back of her mind throughout the day.

* * *

_Thanks for the brilliant response last chapter. I love hearing what you have to say and your premonitions for what you think will happen next. _

_So, I hope this wasn't _too_ disappointing - I know a lot of you were eager to see the first encounter between Stef and Callie, and I know this was quite vague and cold, but things are going to pick up from here. _

_As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think! - K :)_


	7. Hazy Mindset

School went by in a daze for Callie. While her body may have been present, she can hardly remember any of the information her overbearing teachers had thrown at her about the upcoming midterms, her mind occupied by the odd string of events that had played out this morning. She spent first period Math trying to piece together the time between saying bye to Jude and waking up in the street, which was like trying to see through a pair of grimy spectacles; the missing minutes were clearly there in her mind, but so vague they were almost blurred. But she soon gave up on the hopeless attempt to recover her dizzy memories and turned her focus to the bigger issue; the cop.

All through World History, she had been recalling the fare-haired woman's curious stare and analysing words. Although she hadn't shown any reason for Callie to fear her, the apprehension around such an authority figure isn't something Callie can control; it's a default setting that she knows will never really disappear, and why should it when all through her life, they've never done anything but let her down?

But although Callie didn't exactly fear for her safety, she worries about the sudden interest the woman took in her. Why her? What makes her any different from the usual drug users who curl up on the street corners at night after receiving their latest fix? Something about the way the woman looked at Callie scared her. The look wasn't exactly bad; it just felt odd. It took until halfway through her lunch hour for Callie to recognise that the look the cop had given her was something she hadn't had anyone give her for a long while: genuine concern.

By Spanish, Callie found herself crediting the police system – the people she had grown accustomed to hating – for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. If that cop hadn't found her, god knows who would have found her and what awful things they could have done. The thought sent Callie into a silent fit of incredulous laughter despite the fact the issue isn't remotely funny, though the way it sits with her, it might as well be; surely nothing can match up to the dire hand she's been dealt in life, and if anything came close, then she'd win just for the fact that she hadn't salvaged the many desires her mind had to run away, or even _off_ herself. She'd thought about it a couple of times, the idyllic way to defy the system that had come to control her whole life would quite obviously be to take the ability to do so away from them, in essence, taking the control she'd yearned for to end the misery that was her life. But of course, she would never go through with it – she'll never leave Jude.

She wonders if this was what Gregor Samsa from _The Metamorphosis _felt. If he felt so alone in his new body, so disregarded and controlled, that things would be better if he just disappeared. She makes a mental note to finish reading the text, maybe during lunch tomorrow before English class – she'd be too far ahead, but something about the little background knowledge she has on the protagonist draws her in and almost brings her a sense of comfort, despite the horror he appears to have gone through. It is, after all, only a book, but Callie feels somewhat of a connection with the young man.

Now she exits the school, shaking her head she to clear it of the tactless thoughts clouding her judgement. As she stills herself she notices an ache, as if the insides are rattling around her skull, and recognises it as a starting symptom of dehydration. At lunch, she'd eaten a sandwich and washed it down with a box of apple juice, and for the moment it had revitalised her enough to get through the afternoon of classes, but it had never fully dampened the fiery sensation of hunger that lingers in her stomach.

She sees Jude perched on a wall outside the middle school, back curved in a way that would make her mother cringe, and head looking down at something in his lap. She picks up her pace to close the distance between them, pushing her hair off her hot face, the sun still beating down hard on her neck. They're lucky, really, how close their schools are here in San Ysidro – in previous placements, the middle school and high school had been miles away from each other, so neither of the siblings complained about the system they'd created when they'd first moved here over three months ago. Jude's school let out a good fifteen minutes before Callie's, but he'd wait on the wall by the bus stop for her so they could catch the bus home together. Today is no different, and Callie smiles, glad to be in the presence of the younger boy once again, especially in light of the events that took place last night.

"Hey, baby," she says, wrapping her arms around him in a quick embrace and peering over his shoulder. He's studying a piece of paper intently, but before Callie can see what it is, he folds it over and puts it back in his bag.

"Hi," he replies, hopping off the wall and swinging on his backpack. She notices immediately that his voice lacks its usual enthusiasm, and her brow furrows.

"How was school?"

He shrugs, beginning to walk towards the bus stop. "Fine."

"Your math homework?" Callie questions, eyebrow raised as she follows close behind him.

"I handed it in. I won't find out my grade until Monday."

Callie nods, accepting his answer, but albeit confused about the sudden atmosphere between them. It isn't like Jude to be so closed off – _she_ is the master of that trait – and it worries her.

The bus ride is silent, and Callie dreads the thought of returning to Lance's house. He probably won't be home, but that doesn't make the place feel any safer. Standing abruptly, she pushes the stop signal on the bus and looks down at Jude's confused face.

Flashing him a smile, she asks, "Did you eat lunch at school today?"

"Yeah, I had some pasta," he replies, following suit with his sister and rising from the seat. "Why are we getting off here? Our stop isn't for another five minutes yet."

"I thought we could go grocery shopping." As the bus pulls over, she begins to make her way to the exit. "It'll keep us out of that house for a while."

As the siblings wander the store, Jude's truncated answers turn into high-pitched chortles as the two engage in a game of 'cart surfing', a game they play each time they come to the store. Jude stands on the shopping cart's frame, and if the lane is free of people, Callie will pick up her pace before lifting her feet too, allowing the cart wheel them fast down the aisle. They'd done it their whole lives; it had been something their mom had always endorsed, and from time to time even joined in with their gleeful charades, seeing how much joy it brought to their faces. Of course, with Jude now nearing thirteen, and Callie having just recently turned sixteen, the pair are probably considered too old to be messing around in such a childish manner, but they wouldn't let that stop them. Just seeing Jude let loose once in a while is enough to make Callie carry on with the traditions, despite the fact they could easily be thrown out the store.

Breathless from their games, Callie begins to search the aisles for the best value supplies. She sends Jude off to gather some cans of soup for the pantry while she finds her way to the drugstore section of the shop. In previous homes, if she needed pain medication, she'd be able to find a bottle of something prescribed to previous foster kids that did the job just fine in a bathroom cabinet, but Lance's house is different. The man barely even kept toothpaste or soap, never mind Tylenol, and as Callie browses the brightly coloured boxes of medication, she can see why; the smallest bottle costs over _ten_ dollars. Looking desperately in her wallet, she sees that she only has around thirty dollars, and no way is she willing to spend a third of her precious money on those pills when the money could be put to better use, like feeding Jude a nutritious breakfast for the next fortnight.

She picks up the bottle, studying it evidently in her hands. Before their antics with the shopping cart, she had almost forgotten about her aching in her back and ribs, but the excess movement has brought back the pain she felt this morning as she'd woken up, and once again, Callie feels like she could collapse in a heap at any moment. Her throat is dry and her head is tinny, and just looking at the bottle of painkillers in her hands brings comfort to her raw body. But she knows they can't afford it. She just has to toughen up – she'll be fine if she just walks it off.

Steering the cart away, she heads back over to where she said she'd meet Jude to see him balancing at least six cans of food in his hands. She laughs as he pulls a face when one of the cans slip slightly from his grasp, only just catching it by the skin of his teeth. "You got enough there, buddy?" Callie teases, ruffling his hair as he places the cans in the cart.

Jude sticks his tongue out at Callie cheekily. "Hey! That was an efficient trip I made. Besides, I got your favourite!"

"Oh yeah?" she questions, trying to hide the little niggle of pain that's coming from her ribcage as she laughs.

"Yeah, look! You used to love spaghetti-O's, remember?"

Callie gulps, staring down at the cans before her. It's the truth; as a child, they had been her favourite food, and the taste always brought fond memories to Callie, but now the desire to taste the sweet tomato sauce is overshadowed by the price.

"Jude…these cost nearly one-fifty a can…" To maximise their small budget, Callie always chose to buy food from the value ranges, figuring it does the same job, but just might not look so pretty. These, however, were branded, and the six cans that Jude had loaded into the cart would add up to nearly nine dollars.

The smile falls off Jude's face almost so quickly she can't bear to look at him. "Oh…I'll put them back, then." His voice has lost its chirp, and he begins to unload the cans from the cart, trudging solemnly along the aisle.

"Jude, wait!" Callie calls after him, her heart breaking at the sight of his disappointment. It's only ten dollars, right? And with the week they've had, they deserve something special.

Her brother turns around, his movements caught in suspense. "Go on then, put them back in."

The look of pure elation on his face enough to make Callie forget about the fact they're spending money they probably don't have, and makes her smile to herself. Seeing Jude happy never fails to raise her mood, and right now, he's doing a good job. "As long as you don't mind having them for dinner for the next week then it's good with me," she adds humorously, before Jude begins to tell her about some cool comic book a boy in his class showed him today. She listens, waiting for the dreaded climax that's bound to arrive, but is surprised to hear that for once the story isn't about someone teasing her brother, but about him making a friend.

Jude continues to tell Callie about the boy as they pick up the last of the groceries, and only stops for a breath by the time they reach the checkout. When they stop, Callie is surprised to find herself more breathless than Jude, despite the fact he'd been animatedly talking non stop for the past fifteen minutes, and winces slightly as she lets out a breath.

"Callie?" Jude nudges his sister's side, oblivious to the shooting pain his elbow creates as it digs into her achy ribs when trying to grab her attention. "Look, over there! That's it!"

She presses her hands to her eyes, forcing the tears to stay inside – the last thing she needs is for Jude to see her like this. She knows he didn't mean it, and she does love to see his excitement, but times like now where her head is pounding and her body is aching, she wishes she could just take a break. She loves her brother, and more than anything she loves to see him actually act like a kid, but right now it's too much. "What is it, Jude?" she asks, her voice slightly harsher than she'd intended.

But Jude doesn't pick up on her tone, and wanders over to the magazine stand adjacent to the checkout point, calling over the noise of the beeping tills. "It's the comic book that Carlos had today! I _have_ to show you the main guy, you're gonna love him, Cal!"

As Jude begins to flick through the comic book, she feels a nauseous sensation creeping in her stomach. She hasn't felt this bad in ages – normally after a beating, she was able to go through the day with minimal upset, only the occasional ache or pain. But after passing out this morning, and the shortness of breath in the store earlier, the ache from _this_ beating is really taking a toll on her. Suddenly, she's not so sure she'll be able to make it home at all without some kind of pain killer, never mind whatever Lance could have in store for her tonight.

"That's really great, buddy," she says weakly, forcing a smile as Jude points out another cool fact about the superhero he's suddenly begun to idolize.

"You know, I think I saw over there that it's on sale…" Jude says quietly, glancing towards Callie questioningly.

"Jude…" she says, torn between her heart and her mind. They really can't afford it; they are barely able to get the groceries as it is, never mind luxuries like comic books. "We can't."

"I know." He sighs, closing the comic and tucking it under his arm.

She looks at him sympathetically and wraps her arms around his neck, tucking his petite body into her torso. "I'm sorry, baby. But if we save up, then maybe next week we can come down and see if they have it on sale still, okay?"

She can tell Jude's trying to mask his disappointment, and it breaks her inside knowing that she can't give him the things most parents wouldn't even think twice about. He's just a kid; he deserves to have something nice once in a while. But she really can't afford it. Once again, she curses whoever gave her this life.

As she moves forward in the line, Callie is reminded of the dizziness that's clouding her mind, and knows that she has to address the thought that's been lingering around her head since she was over by the drug stand. She pulls three ten-dollar bills from her wallet and slips them into Jude's hands.

"What are you doing?" he asks, examining the dog-eared money in his hands with a frown.

"I need to use the bathroom," she lies, biting her lip. "You pay for this, okay? I'll meet you outside."

Jude looks sceptical, and worry creases his face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah; I'm fine. I just need some air, that's all," she assures him, smiling weakly. "Just hand over all the money if you can't work it out, okay? There's not much change to get anyway."

"I got it, Cal," he says, shaking his head in embarrassment, although they both know he would struggle in the heat of the moment to hand over the correct amount of money to the cashier.

Nodding, she slips out of the line and retreats back to the medicine aisle. She'd only shoplifted a handful of times before, and each had been for trivial things like candy or toy cars for Jude, but now she finds herself thankful for her small amount of experience in the business. This time, however, her theft is out of desperation rather than for childish enjoyment, and if she were to be caught, she'd pay a much higher price than for stealing a chocolate bar.

She walks down the aisle slowly, trying her hardest not to draw attention to herself. Glancing around, she's thankful to see that the security camera is far from her position by the medicine shelf, which will make picking up the bottle a little easier.

_Don't act suspicious. _

_Make it look like you're doing nothing wrong. _

_Don't make them think you have something to hide. _

_Act natural – grab the loot, and walk away._

She runs the rules through her head and forces her arm out towards the shelf, wrapping her shaking hands around the darkly tinted bottle. She looks around again, and, just like before, there is no one to be seen in the aisle. Quickly, Callie pulls the bottle from the shelf and stuffs it deep into the darkness of her open backpack, then zips it up and plasters it to her chest as she continues her walk down the aisle.

The thrill she'd felt the time she stole the candy bar is nowhere to be seen this time. Instead, it has been replaced with a guilt so strong Callie feels like she could throw up her lunch at any moment. And, considering the circumstances, puking in the middle of the grocery store would _not_ be a good idea.

Swallowing the bile that threatens to rise up her throat, Callie walks out into the open checkout area and towards the exit. Her knees shake with nerves as she passes the large, round security guard and the way he follows her with his eyes makes her shiver. _Just keep going. Act like you've done nothing wrong and they won't suspect a thing._

Just as she's slipping out of the store, a cough sounds behind her and her face drains of blood. She hovers for a moment, debating whether to turn around and address whoever is waiting behind her, or make a run for it right now. Ultimately, though, she knows she won't make it far in this state, and she can't just leave Jude behind, so she turns slowly, crossing her fingers in a prayer that she hasn't just been busted.

"Miss," the security guard says, his face unreadable. Right then, she's sure she's been caught. She's been busted for stealing drugs – she could be sent to jail or a group home, and Jude could be placed somewhere even worse than Lance's house and she won't be there to protect him. All because she couldn't just put up with some stupid aching in her back.

She can feel herself struggling to breathe and is well aware that she now looks extremely suspicious, but before she passes out with panic, the security guard finally speaks. "Your shoelace is undone."

Callie looks down to her worn out converse, and then back up at the guard. "Oh," she says, shaking her head. "Thanks."

He gives an authoritative nod as Callie stumbles away. She can tell just by the raised hairs on her neck that he's still watching her as she rounds the corner.

Now in the shade of the side street, Callie leans against the wall and sucks in the cooler air. Her heart rattles in her chest, and she knows that she has to try and compose herself before Jude gets out – seeing his sister so distraught will only frighten him, and she doesn't have the energy to try and console him.

With shaking hands, she reaches into the backpack and pulls out the bottle of pills. "You better do your job after all the trouble I've gone to get you!" Callie warns in a whisper, aware she probably sounds and looks delusional, but her sanity is the least of her worries – at least until she can rid herself of the aches and pains.

She swallows down two pills dry, wincing as they scratch her throat, before closing the bottle and returning it to her bag. She looks around and catches sight of a police cruiser in the parking lot, and the vehicle instantly makes her stiffen. What would the cop from this morning think of her now that she'd truly broken the law? Would compassion still fill her blue eyes, or would it be replaced with repulsiveness, now that Callie had lived up to the stereotypical trashy foster kid?

As the cruiser door opens, Callie does't stick around to see who exits, instead hurrying round the back of the store.

She didn't get caught this time, but the success does nothing to encourage her to engage in the act again. She could have lost it all and ruined both her and Jude's lives, and that's a price she's definitely not willing to pay.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and for the great reviews and my apologies for the longer wait for this chapter - I'm currently wifi-less! Anyway, I love hearing from you all and it would be great to see what your thoughts on this chapter are, so please leave a review! _

_- K :)_


	8. Protect and Serve

"Yes, you may well have been trying to get away from an ex-gang member with a chainsaw, Sir, but that doesn't account for the fact you were doing almost double the speed limit in this area," Stef says firmly, standing over a plump, Latino man who was trying – and ultimately failing – to reason himself out of being charged for speeding. Stef was having none of it, though – he'd lost her after 'chainsaw' – and she had no trouble writing out his details as Mike issued him a fine.

Today had been busy, _too_ busy for Stef's liking. She feels as if she hasn't stopped all day, although she doesn't have anyone to blame but herself. As soon as she'd arrived back at the station, she'd bumped into a flustered Mike who told her he'd been called to man some kind of community sports event in Chula Vista and was needed immediately, if she wanted to come. At the time, getting out on a job had seemed like the better option, but now, having had her patience tested a few too many times, she is beginning to regret the choice.

Now, the time is creeping close to her 4:30pm finish, and she's stuck all the way down in San Ysidro again of all places, reciting the rules and regulations on speeding in a neighbourhood area to a grown man who she _knows_ probably isn't listening or has a care for what she's saying.

The sun is still hot on her skin, and Stef wipes her brow with her shirtsleeve for the umpteenth time as she gives one final glare to the man in the car before sending him on his way.

"At least he had the decency to drive away slowly," Mike jokes, coming to stand beside her.

"Yeah, but that probably won't last long. Wait until he reaches the highway, and I bet he'll be pulled over by another squad."

The two share a laugh, and with that, return to the cruiser. Mike pulls onto the road, and the suffocating heat of the car begins to get the best of Stef. Not even rolling the windows down and blasting the AC can shake her out of her sweat, so finally, the two agree to pull over at a close by grocery store so Stef can fetch them some cold sodas.

When she gets out the car, Stef can't help but cringe at her surroundings. There's litter caught up in the chain-link fences, and the store's walls are spray-painted with various profanities and gang symbols. She'd promised Lena that she would do her best to stay away from San Ysidro, but it seems that ever since she made that promise, she had been destined to break it.

"I'll take a Dr. Pepper," Mike says through the open window, bringing Stef back to reality.

He pushes a couple of dollar bills into her hand, but Stef shakes her head and gives the money back. "My treat."

"Thanks." He smiles, and for a moment, Stef feels like she's back in the academy. Sure yesterday had been odd for both of them, suddenly having to spend all day together again after the history they shared, but now the awkwardness has passed, Stef finds herself enjoying being in the company of Mike again. He really is a good guy, it's just a shame she had hurt him so much throughout their romantic _and_ platonic relationships.

She heads over to the door, and instantly sighs in content at the sensation of the cool air conditioner blowing cold air in her face. After greeting the security guard, Stef looks around the shop and heads over to the refrigerator to grab the sodas, and instantly groans as she sees the long line for the checkout. _Of course,_ she thinks to herself. _How typical._

As she waits, she studies the label of her chosen soda and raises her eyebrows at the number of artificial flavourings and sugar, knowing Lena would choke if she knew Stef was drinking it. She'd hate to think what her girlfriend would do if it were any of the kids, and hopes for their own safety that they would know better than to bring sodas like this back to the house. Of course, Stef agrees with Lena, and encourages their kids to be as healthy as possible, but she doesn't see how a little treat like this can do any harm. Especially when its temptingly delicious flavour is only enhanced by the ice-cold condensation bleeding down the bottle on a stifling hot day like this…

By the time she looks up, she realises that the line has slowly crept up on itself and she's now second to the front. Before her is a young boy, maybe ten or eleven, and he's struggling to move all the groceries from his cart onto the conveyer belt, with a book clasped under his arm. Stef can tell by the pinched up look on the shop assistant's face that she's growing impatient, and for some reason, she finds herself mildly annoyed with the woman.

"And the book?" she almost hisses just as the boy has finished.

"Oh, um, I forgot to put that back…" Stef can't see his face, but by the timid tone to his voice, she can gather that he's feeling slightly flustered as to what to do.

"Well," the woman snaps, finishing up scanning the last item. "are you gettin' it or not?"

"Um," he says almost urgently, his voice wavering slightly as he looks down at the money in his hands. For a moment, Stef thinks he might cry, and her heart softens. "I don't think have enough. I'll just go put it back."

The shop assistant shakes her head, chewing her lip in annoyance, and it takes everything in Stef to control herself from chastening the woman about the foul attitude she's showing towards the young boy. "Well hurry – I don't got all day to be waitin' on you. There are other people waitin' in that line, too!"

"Wait!" Stef finds herself calling out just as the little boy begins to walk away. Both he and the shop assistant look round at her, mouths wide open with surprise. "I'll get it."

She can't help but notice the boy's eyes widen with fear as he stares at her, his body physically stiffening as he takes in her uniform and gun belt. It almost reminds her of the girl she'd met earlier this morning.

"No, it's okay. You don't have to do that," the boy says, shrinking away from Stef's stare, although not retreating back to the magazine stand either.

"I _want_ to," Stef assures, her voice kind and she reaches out to take the comic book from the boy.

He looks around uncertainly, before handing it over. "O-okay. I mean, really? You're sure it's okay?"

"Of course," Stef replies, waving off his doubts. In truth, the little boy reminds her a lot of Mariana when she first came to stay with them: extremely timid and unsure. But also, in essence, much like Jesus – in fact, Stef is sure that the comic book she holds in her hands is an exact replica of one of the countless copies she had bought her son in the past. Now, the collection lies in a box under his bed, probably gathering dust.

The boy gives her what looks to be the most genuinely happy smile he can muster, although Stef can see it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Thank you," he says, so sincerely that she suddenly wants to wrap him in a hug. Being a cop always had it's rewards, but the chance to make a little kid so happy with just a small gesture like this doesn't come up often, and Stef smiles to herself. She watches the boy pay for his groceries and wander to the store's exit while she buys her sodas and the comic book.

While scanning her items, the shop assistant gives Stef an icy gaze. _She obviously doesn't know what it's like to be a mother, _she thinks to herself, ready to reprimand the woman's bad attitude, but stops herself when she catches sight of the boy waiting on her. Now that she can get a better look at him, Stef see's that he's very small and overly pale, and by his skittish stance, she gets the impression that he's intimidated by the surroundings.

She wanders over to him, a reassuring smile on her face to assure him she's not a threat. She can practically smell the nerves off him, and wonders why on earth his mother would send him out alone in a neighbourhood like _this. _Although the thought is unjust, she can't help but shiver at the thought of her kids wandering this kind of area on their own, and they're _teenagers_ – never mind a small, vulnerable child like the boy before her.

"Here you go, buddy," she says, reaching out to pass him the comic book.

He looks up sheepishly before taking the book from her hands, almost too quickly, as if he is afraid she'll change her mind. "Thank you, Miss," he mumbles, looking down at the book in awe. The smile that graces his face makes Stef's heart melt, and she's glad to see she could make the boy happy.

"You're very welcome. I'm glad I was able to help out."

They stand there for a moment, neither making the move to leave, but not finding the words to continue the conversation, either. Eventually, after a few moments of the boy flicking through the pages, he tucks the book under his arm and begins to pick up his bags.

"Do you need any help with that to get to your mom or dad?" Stef asks, cringing as the plastic sack handle strains against the heavy weight of canned goods. She bends down to help shift the weight of the groceries into one of the other less filled bags, but at her movement, the boy darts backwards and almost stumbles into a promotional sign offering a half off carpet freshener.

Stef immediately places the two bottles of soda occupying her hands on the ground and reaches out to steady the child, and to her relief, he allows her to help him catch his balance. Red lights flash around her head at this whole scenario, but she shakes her head, determined not to lose focus on what's right in front of her.

"You okay?" she chuckles, trying to make light of the situation, but there's no way of wiping the look of horror off the little boy's face.

"Yes," he squeaks, too fast, edging away from her close proximity. "I-I have to go now…"

Stef nods, backing up a little as not to spook him. "Okay."

She watches as he picks up the bags of groceries, the comic book wedged under his slender arms as he heads for the exit. Just as he reaches the security guard, he pauses and turns to face her. His brow is furrowed, and some kind of adorable frown graces his face, as if he's debating whether to speak or not. "Thanks again…uh, Miss."

"Stef," she says, nodding her head, and the boy releases a shy smile. "You can call me Stef." She bends down to pick up her soda, but when she looks up expecting to hear the small brunet share his name, he's nowhere to be seen.

She crosses over to the exit quickly, taking a step out into the scorching heat before peering out into the parking lot and glancing along the sidewalk, but there's no sign of the child. All traces of her interaction with him have gone – almost as if she'd dreamed it. The only evidence was the receipt she had for her trip in the grocery store, the comic book that ran up to a total of six dollars being the heaviest of her purchases. She shakes her head, confused as to what on earth just happened. That little boy. He looked so scared and fragile, and the thought that he had assumed Stef was going to hurt him makes her feel physically sick. Maybe she is overreacting, but she swears he seems familiar, almost like she's seen him before…

Her thoughts drift back to last night, but before she lets herself connect any dots, she shakes her head in frustration. _It's just the heat_, she tells herself. _It's making me paranoid and over emotional. Lena always says that the heat gets to me worse than anyone she's met before. That's all it is: the heat._

It's just a strange coincidence – in fact, it isn't even a coincidence, it's just by pure chance, because for it to be a coincidence, what she saw would have to be real, and right now, Stef isn't sure what to call reality and what's just a fragment of her imagination.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stef and Callie are going to have a real run in soon enough instead of these brief, close misses__!_

_ As always, thank you SO much for the feedback and reviews - I'm really glad to hear what you guys are thinking. So, let me know what you thought of Jude and Stef's first interaction, and your other thoughts! -K :)_


	9. Unease

The journey home from the grocery store was quiet. Jude's nose was buried in a comic book – which he assured her had been a gift from the woman behind him in the line and not from the thirty dollar quota assigned for their groceries – and he responded to Callie's small talk with half hearted shrugs and one word answers.

She wasn't completely concerned, figuring that the boy obviously needed some time to process what he'd seen last night and that he deserved to have a breakdown, but by the time they reached the front door of the Lance's house, she could tell by Jude's paling face that he was scared to go in.

In truth, she was scared too – the idea of being stuck in that house for the rest of the weekend made her stomach twist with anxiety and her body ache in the tender spots Lance's beating had left behind, but for Jude's sake, she knew that _she_ would have to get over her nerves. If she just managed to convince him she was okay, then he would soon follow suit and lose the antsy stature he'd possessed since she met him after school.

Now, a little past five, they sit in the yellowing kitchen. Around them, the dated appliances creek with years of overuse as Callie cleans the stained linoleum floor and Jude sits at the table, still consumed by the comic. The house is almost silent apart from Callie's faint humming and the occasional whoosh as Jude turns the pages of his book. She still hasn't seen Lance since last night, and she's not sure whether to be pleased at his lack of appearance or worried.

The Tylenol she'd taken earlier appears to be working – her back, while still tender, feels almost normal, and the nausea seemed to disappear after she'd downed a bottle of water on the walk home from the store. It would be easy to forget about the guilt that the thieving brought with the pleasure of pain relief the pills brought, but no matter how much better she feels now, Callie swears she won't risk getting sent to jail like that ever again: she has Jude to think about after all.

Over a dinner of spaghetti-o's and toast – which both siblings scarf down like ravenous lions – Callie decides to inquire more about the comic book he has been consumed by all afternoon.

"So, you said a woman gave it to you?" she asks him, feeling somewhat awkward in this new silence that has fallen over the pair.

He looks up from his food, his face paling a little before nodding his head. "Yeah." His nervous stance makes Callie instantly suspicious, and she knows right off that there's something her brother isn't telling her.

Swallowing a bite of toast, she continues her questioning. "So did she just give it to you, or…?"

The boy chooses not to look at her this time, and instead busies himself with the food on his plate. She watches him as he aligns the small, pasta hoops into perfect rows of four, manoeuvring them around the plate with his fork. Callie instantly picks up on his behaviour: he's channelling her out. He'd mastered the skill years ago when they were in their second foster home, one where one of the biological kids would tease him for his messy haircut and laugh at his Velcro sneakers. Jude had cried the first time the boy had made a mean remark to him, and the foster mother had done nothing more than give her son a clip on the back of the head, so a ten year old Callie had been the one to comfort her little brother while he sobbed, telling him to ignore the horrible kid. By the third time it happened, Jude had become immune to the teasing, having learning how to block out his surroundings, and it was something that Callie learned to be thankful for in later foster homes – especially when things turned violent.

But now, Callie hates that Jude ever learned how to disconnect himself from the world. Sometimes, she is afraid he'll shut it out completely; because anything has to be easier than this nightmare they call their lives. Now, though, she's annoyed that her brother is using his tactic to divert her questions. "Jude?" she presses, tapping her fork on his plate opposite to her own when he doesn't respond.

At the sound of metal on china, the boy looks up, and the haziness seems to clear from his eyes. "What?" he asks, almost innocently.

"The woman?"

"Oh," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, she paid for it."

"Really?" Callie smirks, not convinced. She has spent enough time around the boy before her to be able to read almost every single one of his facial expressions. She knows him better when he knows himself, and _he _knows that, too, which is why it amuses her that he's trying to lie to her.

It seems Jude has caught on to Callie, and instantly his face falls and her thoughts turn to the worst. She sits back slightly in her seat, and looks from Jude's skittish stance to the thick, brightly coloured comic book beside him. Her palms begin to clam up and her breath hitches in her throat. Surely he couldn't have…

"Jude," she says, voice wavering slightly. "You- you didn't _steal_ it, did you?"

At her words, Jude's facial expression contorts from one of fear, to one of upmost confusion, before he begins to giggle uncontrollably.

Callie, for one, is lost. She watches as the boy sits back from his half eaten plate of food, doubling over with laughter, and feels as if she's missed something in the conversation. Sure, she hadn't really pegged Jude to be the kind of boy who stole – in fact, the thought of him sneaking around the grocery store, as uncomfortable as it makes her feel, is a _little_ funny. The boy is so timid that he barely does anything without the reassurance of his sister. But by the sounds of Jude's chortling laughs, Callie isn't so sure that her image of the young boy tiptoeing down the aisles is just that – _an image. _

_Maybe this hysterical laughter is a side effect from the thieving – maybe it's taken a toll on his mental stability…_

The thoughts spin around her head so fast, and already Callie is thinking ways to deal with her brother's rebellion. She can't let him go on thinking it's okay to steal things – what kind of person would she be if she tolerated such unethical behaviour? But as she thinks of possible consequences, she can't help but cringe at how hypocritical she's being. Here she is contemplating punishments for Jude for doing the exact same crime she had committed earlier. But there's something different about the way she see's the two situations. Jude is worth teaching – she could never allow him to turn out like _her. _His purity is the only thing that makes her life worthwhile. If she were to allow him to become a delinquent with a criminal record like her, then she would never forgive herself for failing him.

With her, though, it doesn't matter so much – she's already doomed, right? Why bother trying to salvage any of her long lost innocence.

Noticing that Jude has gone quiet, she pulls herself from her thoughts and forces herself to look the still smirking boy in the eye. "Look, Jude – you can't just steal stuff. I'm sorry that I couldn't get you that book, baby. And I know how much you wanted it, but–"

"Callie!" Jude interrupts, breaking her out of her rant. "Cal, I didn't steal it."

She looks at him sceptically, before sighing and reaching to place her hands over his comfortingly, much like she envisions a mother would with her child in a matter like this. "Baby, it's okay. You don't have to pretend- but you just have to know that what you did today wasn't right. If someone had caught you, we could get in a lot of trouble with Lance, or Bill, or even the police, okay?"

Jude slips his hands out from Callie's and eyes her angrily. "Callie, I didn't steal it!"

Callie's eyes widen, taken aback by the usually quiet boy's tone. "But…"

Jude sighs, and shuffles closer to Callie on the bench. "I didn't steal it, Cal. I wouldn't do something stupid like that, I swear."

His words burn through her, and Callie tries to keep the guilt from her face. If Jude only knew what she had done earlier…

But looking at the boy now, at his honest, innocent face and large, truthful eyes, she knows that he is telling her the truth. Although by the edge to his words, she isn't at all sure that she is going to be any more relieved by what he's going to tell her next.

"I didn't mention it before because I knew you would make it out to be a bigger deal than it was."

Growing nervous, Callie furrows her brow. "Mention what, Jude?"

"The woman – she was a cop," he says timidly, squinting his eyes to ready himself for Callie's response.

Out of all the things Callie had imagined the younger boy saying, _this_ had most definitely not been one of them. "A cop?" she repeats, raising a brow. If it's true, then it will explain Jude's behaviour, and Callie relaxes a little with relief that her brother's hostility wasn't actually the result of him committing an offence. But at Jude's confirmation that the woman was, in fact, a cop of, her body instantly stiffens and her breath catches in her throat. What if this cop had seen her taking the Tylenol? What if she had been caught on the store's security camera – it would only be a matter of time before they came for her. Maybe they'd been watching her all along, one of them talking to Jude while the other observed Callie in the act.

Jude is still speaking, relaying details on the exchange of the comic book and the nasty cashier, but her mind won't stop spinning for even a second to allow her to listen. She isn't sure how the police system works, but she knows that stealing those pills was a bad enough anyway, never mind completing the act while a _cop_ was in such close proximity. God, how could she have been so _stupid?_

It only takes a moment for her to realise that her breaths aren't bringing in nearly enough air, and soon, her body is starving for oxygen. Her fork clatters against her plate with her trembling hands, and beads of sweat trickle across her forehead. The inability to breathe begins to worry her to the extent that she questions whether she's having a heart attack. She doesn't know what's going on, only that if she doesn't stop this now, it'll scare Jude.

Jude continues talking only stopping to stare at his sister when she drops the fork and brings her hands up to her throat, her eyes closing tight and a frown crossing her face, as if she's in pain.

"Cal?" She hears his small voice call worriedly, but it sounds far off, as if he's through in the next room, not just opposite her. When she doesn't respond, his chair scrapes back and almost immediately he's by her side, his hand on her shoulder. "Callie, you're scaring me."

Those words are all it takes for the pain to escape her chest and her breaths to come back in quick, short gasps. With Jude's hand on her shoulder, pulling her back into the present, she shakes the overwhelming anxiety away and peels open her eyes to reveal his horror stricken face.

She curses herself for loosing control like that – it wasn't something he needed to see, and just the thought of her nearly breaking down in front of him almost sends her back into the panic-filled state.

"Are you okay?" he questions, eyes wide and lip trembling with fear.

Taking a breath, Callie rubs her face with her hands and shakes her head. Truthfully, she doesn't know what she feels, but whatever it is, is far from okay. But she can tell by Jude's watering eyes that she can't tell him that, and instead reaches for his hands and squeezes them reassuringly. "I'm fine, Baby."

"What _was_ that?"

"I don't know, bud," she answers truthfully. The sensation was unlike anything she had really felt before. It was different from the abysmal fear that had enveloped her _that night_ a year ago with Liam, and a different kind of trepidation she felt last night – and every other night a foster parent decided to take a swing at her. The sensation was entirely individual, and the rush of hysteria and disquietude – both mentally and physically – was enough to make her fear it returning.

"Are you in pain? From what Lance did to you last night?"

"What?" she says, having almost forgotten about the injuries she'd obtained last night; the pain had slipped her mind hours ago. What stemmed this sudden rush of panic was the mention of the cop, and the possibility that someone could trace her thieving – but she can't tell him that. "No, no. I'm fine, Jude, really. I'm just tired."

The boy shakes his head, and looks as if he's about to protest, but Callie continues before he gets the chance. "How about we go upstairs and get ready for bed early? We can camp out in my room and you can tell me all about the guy in your comic."

He looks reluctant to agree, but nods his head anyway, obviously sensing Callie's indirect pleads to drop the subject. For one night, she just wants to relax; to have a nice night in with Jude and rest her achy body, and to forget about the entire day's events – from the blonde cop this morning, to the shop-lifting, and even the near panic attack just moments ago. All she wants is some peace and quiet, for the exhausting thoughts to disappear, and for the night to go smoothly with no unpleasant interruptions. And most certainly, with no mentions of cops.

oOo

Much to Callie's relief, the night had been relatively easy going so far. Jude had started out chattering on about the main character of his comic book, but the conversation had soon turned to the boy, Carlos, who had captured Jude's attention today with the book. She smiles as Jude's face beams red while he tells Callie of this boy's spunky personality and cool backpack, and in that moment, she feels complete, genuine happiness. Jude's ability to distract her mind is incredible, and she can tell that he is enjoying this lightweight, easy conversation just as much as she is. Besides, it's nice to actually know what's going on in her brother's life for once – just spending this time together tonight really makes her realise that she's been a little out of the loop recently regarding Jude's personal development.

It's a little past 10pm when she's shaken awake by the slamming of the front door. She hadn't even realised she'd fallen asleep, but here she is, head laying on Jude's shoulder as he continues to read the comic they'd been looking at earlier. She rubs at her eyes and stifles a groan at the ache in her back from the awkward position she's laying in. How was it possible that the sleep she'd been craving so much could make her feel even worse than before?

Before she can really register what's going on, she hears his loud, staggering footsteps on the stairs, followed by a crash as he swings open the bedroom door. At the sight of him, Callie practically leaps off the bed and pulls herself into a standing position, making sure to shove Jude directly behind her. Lance looks at her, and immediately, his face turns red and his eyes flare with anger.

"What's going on?" she asks, trying to hide the fear in her voice. The man rarely comes into their bedrooms, and definitely not without a purpose, which leads Callie to believe that this isn't just a nurturing nightly visit.

"_What's going on?"_ he seethes, sarcasm evident in his loud, clipped voice. "What's going on is I know about that stunt you pulled last night!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Callie states flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. _So much for a quiet night_, she thinks to herself. Jude hooks his fingers through the belt loops in her jeans, clinging to her for comfort. She hates that he has to see this again.

"Sure you do," he scoffs, taking another step into the room. Callie tenses at his approach, but makes every effort to keep up a tough front – she doesn't want to look weak in front of him. Her mind is too preoccupied with predicting possible diversions to the events that are about to unfold, and she doesn't put together exactly what Lance is talking about straight away, which only seems to anger the man more. "The cops?" he scoffs, now so close to Callie's face she can see the individual beads of perspiration dotting his brow, and smell his whisky laced breath.

Behind her, she feels Jude's grip on her tighten, and it all comes flooding back. It had been Jude that called the cops last night, and while the distraction they'd created had saved their lives, she hadn't even begun to think about the possible consequences there would be now that Lance knew _they_ were responsible for sending a patrol out to the house. She can't exactly deny it; he knows the truth, and she knows there isn't a point in trying to get herself out of this one.

"Which one of you did it?" By the look in Lance's eye, she knows she's done for. She turns her head, looking down at Jude. His eyes are shut tight and his eyebrows are furrowed with fear. There's no way she's letting him take the fall for it. Sure, it sucks that she's probably going to get hit again on top of the injuries from last night, but she'd take that any day just knowing Jude is safe and sound.

"Me," she replies, swallowing the fear that threatens to rise. "It was me."

Jude lets out a whimper as Callie is pulled away from his side. She turns back, her eyes telling him not to worry as Lance drags her by her arm out of the room. Inside, she feels a little sense of relief that whatever is coming, Jude won't have to see. It's one thing for her to get beaten, but it always hurts her ten times over watching Jude's face contort with fear and sadness as fists plummet into her over and over.

For the first time, as Lance forces her out of the room and into the bathroom, she wonders what on earth he is going to do to her. Throughout her time here, she'd realised that Lance wasn't very creative with his punishments, and most consisted of being tossed around a little – a smack on the face here, a kick in the stomach there – but it seems the intense punishment from last night has sparked Lance's inspiration. She frowns in hesitation when she sees him shut the door, and he throws her against the bathroom wall. He grunts, squatting down to turn on the rusty facets of the bath, and the pipes of the old house creak as hot water makes its way through the plumbing system. Her stomach fills with dread as she realises what he's doing: filling the bath.

Trying to calm her breathing, her eyes dart around the room desperately searching for some sort of exit. But she knows it's no use – she has to take the punishment; avoiding it will only make things worse. Throughout whatever Lance has coming for her, she has to remind herself that it could never be worse than Jude getting shot.

oOo

She stumbles out the bathroom, her steps so careless she almost trips over her own feet. She feels her way down the dark hallway with her hands; her head is too tinny to even attempt trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness. Practically falling into her room, she makes sure to close the door quick, and only then does she release her first breath. Her body shakes violently as she slumps down against the wall. Her hair sticks to her face and her clothes cling to her body, wet from where he held her under the water.

She feels numb, and not just from the raw, red itch the stifling water had left behind as it licked at her skin. She isn't really sure _how_ to feel, because while the punishment hadn't been fatal, it had hurt _a lot_ more than last night – although she imagines that the pain will be short lived – but it had lasted considerably longer than last night, too. It felt as if he held her under the water longer and longer each time – or maybe that was because as time went on, and her oxygen levels plummeted, she lost track of how many times her face had been shoved into the scolding tub. Once again, Callie has to check she isn't having a nightmare. But the bruises and raw skin are enough to tell her that she had, in fact, just lived through the whole thing.

"Callie?"

She almost jumps with fright, and her eyes flick away from the spot she'd been staring at on the wall to her baby brother who sits curled up in the corner of the bed. She had forgotten he was in here, and she scolds herself for not realising sooner – she probably looked crazy, the way she was shaking so vehemently and staring off into the distance. She doesn't want him to be scared.

"Hi, baby," she murmurs, standing up and walking over to the bed. She doesn't even bother to change out of the dripping clothes, much less find a towel for her wet hair, before she pulls back the covers and slides into bed. Jude follows suit, and curls into Callie's middle. She finds herself pulling him closer, seeking his warmth to calm her trembling limbs.

"Cal? Are you awake?"

At his voice, she squeezes his hands and nods against the back of his head.

"I was thinking…could we maybe go to the beach tomorrow?" He speaks no louder than a whisper, and not just because of the late time, she realises, but because he's afraid of her answer.

The idea of even moving anywhere right now makes her feel nauseous, but hearing the little spunk of hope in Jude's voice overpowers her aching bones – that's what the Tylenol is for, right?

When she doesn't answer, Jude begins to dismiss the idea, but Callie is quick to reassure him, trying to sound at least a little enthusiastic for her brother's sake. "I think that sounds like a great idea, bud."

She can't see him in the darkness of the room, but she can tell he's smiling. As long as Jude is happy, then so is she. Besides, it couldn't hurt to get out of the house, and away from Lance, for the day.

Soon, the siblings lay in silence. Jude doesn't ask questions about where Lance took her and what he did to her, to which Callie is grateful, because she doesn't really know if she's able to form coherent sentences right now at all without breaking down into sobs. And she isn't about to do that while Jude is around.

They lay together, each of them trying to sleep against the noise of the excessively loud TV coming from downstairs, and, like most nights, each of them hoping that whatever the new day brings will be better than the last.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. I know a few of you are anxious for the story to pick up its pace, and I promise, it _is_ going to very soon - next chapter, in fact. I hope this wasn't too disappointing, I'm on vacation and wifi is limited so finding the time to update has been tricky, so I apologise for the long wait. Please let me know what you think in the reviews! - K. _


	10. More than a Coincidence

The weekend had always been Stef's favourite time of the week, and this one was no different. Brandon's performance in the final of his competition had been a modest success and had left the whole family brimming with pride for the teenage boy and, much to Lena's distaste, had led to the whole family cooping up in a booth at the kid's favourite ice cream parlour.

"What kind of celebration would it be without ice cream?" Jesus had pleaded to Lena. With Stef joining in with Mariana's puppy eyes for good measure, her partner was ultimately won over, although it earned her a playful swat on the butt in return.

Today is Saturday, and Stef had risen early to gather the needed essentials for the beach day the kids had roped them into last night. She is looking forward to it, really; now that the kids are older, it feels like she hardly sees them anymore with each of their ever-expanding social lives and jam-packed schedules. It will be good to spend some quality time with her babies – last night had been a reminder of just how much fun the Foster clan could have together.

As she showers, her mind drifts away from each of her kids and the immense sense of pride she holds for her eldest son, and to the little boy she met yesterday. With the rush to get back on time for Lena's early dinner and Brandon's competition, the child had almost slipped entirely from her thoughts – until now, anyway.

She wonders what the little boy will be doing this weekend; if he's enjoying the comic book she'd bought for him, and if he managed to carry all those bags of groceries home without the bags bursting. She recalls the complete gratitude he'd shown when she'd given him the comic book, and the smile on his face is one she knows will stay with her for a while. It's crazy how the simplest of things can make someone happy, and she's glad she'd managed to be that boy's source of happiness for at least one day.

Soon, the water begins to cool, and she sighs with the realisation that one of the kids must be using the shower in their shared bathroom. So help the boys if it's Mariana – she'll be in there all day until every last drop of the hot water is used up. Before she knows it, she hears Jesus's frustrated groan as he pounds on the door to the kid's bathroom, and laughs as her prediction comes true.

She shakes her head in amusement. Sometimes, the love she has for her family is so strong, it makes her wonder how she got so lucky. But soon, she finds herself wondering if that little boy has someone who cares for him; if he has someone who makes sure he has hot water for his shower, and lunchmeat for his sandwiches. She hopes he does – she doesn't know why, but it pains her to think of a sweet, innocent little kid like him going unloved.

"Do you have the time?" Lena asks a half hour later as the two of them stand side by side in the bathroom, each of them scrupulously applying light makeup and taming their hair. At her words, Stef freezes slightly, and she finds herself picturing the young, broken looking girl she'd found yesterday morning on the sidewalk. Although Lena's tone was light and friendly – unlike the girl's fearful, stuttering one – the phrase has the same ring to it.

Stef pictures the girl's face, not just battered and bruised, but jaw clenched tight as she tried to put up a tough front. If only she'd known that her eyes gave away the fear she wasn't voicing.

"Honey?" Lena asks, looking towards her partner in the double mirror.

Letting out a sigh, Stef returns her attention to Lena. "Yes?"

"The time?"

She looks down at the flashy bracelet watch on her wrist and reads off the time, causing Lena to throw her cosmetics back into the drawer and mutter something about how they should hurry up and get going so they could miss the morning rush of traffic. Stef continues to apply her mascara, not really listening to Lena's propositions for how they should handle lunch, and instead thinking about the girl. Like the boy, she really hopes that the girl has someone to point her in the right direction and to steer her out of trouble – she'd met plenty of girls in her situation before, and none of their stories had ended well. But the girl she met yesterday gives off a different vibe; something almost like determination – the good kind.

As usual, the family doesn't make it out into the car until an hour after the last showers are turned off – or _freezed out, _as Jesus had mumbled – and it takes another three round checks to make sure everyone has what they need for the day. Opting to save money – and steer her children away from the greasy, fat filled food truck snacks – Lena had suggested they take a picnic, and all the kids had rushed around madly ten minutes before they left searching for sandwich fillers and snacks.

Now, they're driving out the neighbourhood and towards the beach a little farther down from the more secluded area by Anchor Beach School. It's a nice family friendly area with a boardwalk and several amusements that Stef knows will interest the boys more than the sunbathing Mariana had declared she would be spending the afternoon doing.

The beach is much more crowded than she'd anticipated, and Stef hopes they'll be able to find a good spot to lie out their towels and declare theirs for the afternoon. "Seems like everyone had the same idea as us," Lena comments, slipping her seatbelt off and opening the car door.

Stef follows suit, making her way to the back of the car and opening the trunk. "Yeah, well I guess we're not the only ones who decided to gather their teenagers for a day, huh?" She smiles, and reaches in to grab the towels and the striped duffle bag in which she'd packed a change of clothes for everyone what appears to be an endless supply of sunscreen. As Mariana eyes the plethora of coloured bottles suspiciously, Stef raises her hands in defence. "What? You can never be too careful!"

After Lena grabs the picnic bag, and the boys take the parasol and beach balls, the family walk down onto the beach and begin to survey the surroundings for the perfect spot. It's only a matter of time before they find themselves a little down the beach, close enough to the boardwalk so that the kids can come and go as they please and with the restroom at a reasonable distance, which Mariana and Lena had deemed as a necessity.

The kids almost immediately slip down into their bathing suits, Mariana rolling out her towel under the parasol and pulling out a stack of magazines, and Stef laughs, knowing she'll be occupied until at least lunchtime. Lena is quick to toss out a bottle of the sunscreen to everyone, poking Stef in the stomach and teasing her for just how much pain she'll be in tonight if she doesn't put enough on. Stef repays her with devilish tickles, before pressing her lips to Lena's perfect bow shaped ones.

"Okay, gross," Brandon says, snapping the lid onto the bottle of sun cream and tossing it back into the bag. "Now can we go down to the water?"

Stef feigns hurt, and begins to melodramatically waffle on about how she isn't good enough for him, which only earns her three strange looks from the teenagers around her and a jab in the stomach from Lena, who assures Brandon and the fidgeting Jesus, that they can, in fact, do whatever they want – within reason, of course.

And the rest of the morning is spent much like every other beach day the Foster family had taken in the past years – the boys had grown out of their childish splashing games and had since turned to playing beach volleyball, and Mariana, who had grown tired of keeping up with her brothers, tended to stick by the moms, just as she had from the moment she entered her teenage years.

Stef had hoped that they could use this time today to actually unite as a family, and after speaking with Lena, it's decided that they will all eat lunch together up at the parasol.

"Okay, I'm going to the bathroom before we eat. Does anyone else need to come?"

Mariana shoots right up, pulling her face out of the magazine she'd been reading almost religiously for the past hour, and climbs over to Stef's side. "Me."

"Anyone else care to join us?" Stef calls out to the boys, who seem engrossed in a game of two on two soccer and fail to reply. "Okay then, Miss Thing. Just me and you," she says, wrapping her arms around her daughter's shoulders as they walk up the beach and head for the boardwalk.

Just before they reach the pier, though, Mariana asks if she can go and retrieve her sunglasses from the car. Stef feels a little uneasy about allowing Mariana to go alone, but after the reassurance that she isn't a little girl anymore, Stef tosses her the keys and tells her daughter to meet her by the toilet block once she's done. "And don't forget to lock the car!" she calls, receiving an embarrassed glare from the young girl followed by an incredulous smile.

Grinning, Stef wanders along to the boardwalk to the toilet block, only to sigh in frustration when she notices the line to get in. It's hardly terrible, but her rumbling stomach had expected to be in and out the toilet in a couple of minutes, not ten. She almost thinks about going back to meet Mariana at the car to pass the time, but dispels the idea when she realises that the line is already starting to get longer, and her spot is valuable.

Some minutes later, after admiring the view of children playing on the beach and families eating out on the boardwalk, she finds herself staring at the back of a head of brown, shoulder length hair. As the line moves forward, she notices the hesitation in the girl's step, and the wince that comes afterwards as they come to a halt. It crosses Stef's mind that she should perhaps ask the girl if she's okay, but she doesn't want to come off as strange and overbearing – it is a complete stranger after all. She should just mind her own business.

But all attempts of minding her own business are placed aside when the girl turns slightly, and Stef catches sight of her face – the same purpling cheekbones, busted lip and hollow eyes as the girl she'd come across yesterday morning in San Ysidro. She squints her eyes, challenging her brain to stop tricking her, because surely it can't be that same girl – this stretch of beach is _miles_ away from the bashed up neighbourhood they were in yesterday; why would she be here in Mission Bay? For a moment, Stef wonders if she really _has _gone crazy – maybe she was having an early menopause or something – but her suspicions are confirmed when the girl turns right around to face her. It's definitely the girl from yesterday, and she doesn't look happy to see her.

"What? Are you, like, stalking me now or something?" the girl asks, shaking her head in disbelief and crossing her arms tight over her chest.

Aware that she is still staring at the girl, Stef blinks a little and regains her stature, trying to hide the blush that's crept onto her face. In fact, Stef is so stunned that the girl is here at all, she forgets to answer the question.

Obviously assuming Stef's silence as a verification of her statement, the girl looks down at her feet, biting her lip as she nods her head slightly. "So you're here to arrest me, then?"

It doesn't take long for Stef to notice that the girl's voice has deflated from the fierce, accusing tone she'd sported before. "What?" Stef asks, both shocked and confused at the girl's rather ludicrous assumption.

"You know what I'm talking about," she sighs, looking up for the first time to face Stef fully. The girl's big brown eyes are almost pleading, and Stef's heart breaks when she notices a dark ring around one of them – another injury among the girl's patchwork face that hadn't been there yesterday.

"I _don't_ know what you're talking about," Stef articulates, trying to make it clear that she doesn't mean any harm, and that she most certainly isn't here to lock her up. Frankly, the image of the young girl in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit makes Stef shudder, and for a moment, she has to remind herself that this girl isn't one of her kids, or anyone she knows – just a stranger. But like yesterday, Stef gets the impression that this girl has been treated very wrongly in life, and she finds herself immediately concerned as to why on earth she would think Stef was here to arrest her.

A flicker of recognition flashes through the teen's eyes, as if she has just contemplated the idea that Stef might not be following her, that she might actually be here for recreational purposes too, and she seems to lower her guard slightly, mumbling a quiet, "Oh."

"Why would you think I was here to arrest you?" Stef asks, quite horrified that that was the first thing that had come to her mind, and now curious as to what she had done to deserve police involvement.

But just like Stef had assumed, the girl is smart, and she begins to back away slightly, realising her mistake. "It doesn't matter," she says, looking around, maybe for a way out.

Right then, Stef is desperate to keep the girl talking, to find out more about her and where she's coming from, regardless of whether she'll find out if she's committed some kind of felony or worse, and finds herself speaking the first words that come to her mouth. "I'm here with my family."

The girl gives her an odd look, one that she'd received all too many times from her own daughter, before continuing to let her eyes roam the area. "Nice…" she says sarcastically.

Just before Stef gets the chance to ask whom she is here with, a voice calls out and the girl whips her head round fast.

"Callie!" it comes again, and soon, a young boy arrives at the girl's side. "Cal, my money got stuck in the vending machine!"

"What?" The girl, who she assumes is called Callie, turns away from Stef to face the boy, blocking him from her view.

The boy repeats his complaint, and Callie proceeds to tell him that she doesn't have enough money to get him another drink. Stef's heart sinks. Before she can give it a second thought, she steps out of the line and steps towards the two kids.

"Can I help at all?"

Immediately the girl, Callie, turns to Stef and grabs the boy's arm, pushing him behind her. "We're fine, thanks," she says, icily.

But before she can walk away, the little boy pokes his head out from behind Callie, and Stef instantly reels back in surprise as his eyes widen in recognition.

"_Stef?_" he questions incredulously, a look of both surprise and shock on his face.

Stef, a little lost for words at the sight of the timid boy who had stood in front of her yesterday at the grocery store, forces herself to wipe away her surprise. "Hey there, buddy." While she speaks, Stef is aware of Callie looking between her and the little boy, her brow furrowed as if she's trying to figure out how they know each other. "How's the comic book?"

"G-good, thanks," he mumbles nervously, now aware of Callie trying to determine the situation.

"Do you need some more money for the vending machine?" Stef asks, only realising once she's spoken that she doesn't have any money on her, and that it's back in her wallet in the car. But before she gets the chance to even contemplate how she'd go back and get it, Stef see's Callie walking back, pulling the boy with her.

"We have to go," she says quickly, glancing around nervously. "Come on, Jude."

Just like that, the pair are walking down the boardwalk, the wait in line for the bathroom forgotten along with the money stuck in the vending machine. Stef watches as Callie wraps her arm around the little boy, pulling him close to her as they walk, much like the gesture she and Mariana had shared just ten minutes earlier. She knows that she shouldn't – Callie had made it clear they didn't need her help – but how can Stef just let them go? The two people who had dominated her mind for the past twenty-four hours have suddenly just fused together, and now they are heading back down the boardwalk, away from the amusements and restaurants and towards the highway, leaving Stef no more informed of their situation than she was beforehand.

Ducking out of the line, Stef begins to jog along the boardwalk in attempt to catch up with the two kids. "Wait!" she calls, and Callie turns her head at the sound of the voice, but carries on walking when she see's Stef coming after them.

Desperate now, Stef decides to call on the boy, hoping that he will be less hostile than the girl. "Jude?"

Just like she'd hoped, the boy turns around and pauses in his spot, despite Callie's protests to keep moving. Eventually, Stef manages to close the distance between them, panting slightly from her minor workout. The look on Callie's face shows she isn't impressed with the woman's strategy to win them over, and Stef does admit that it _was_ kind of cheap, winning over the pair by calling out a little boy who obviously felt torn in the situation.

"You sure you don't need anything?" Stef raises her eyebrow, directing the question towards Jude and trying her best to ignore the dirty look Callie is giving her. "At least let me buy you guys a soda or something," She offers, although it's more like a plead.

The little boy looks up to Callie, who seems to be trying to tell him something with her eyes, but if he understands at all what she's trying to communicate, he ignores her. "I am pretty thirsty, I guess," he says, shrugging, a small smile on his face.

Callie looks as if she might scream, or cry – Stef can't quite tell – but sucks in a deep breath and juts her chin out. "Fine."

"Great!" Stef says, pleased with herself. "Now, just let me go grab my wallet. Wait right here, I'll be back in a moment."

As she walks off, her hands sweaty from nerves, Stef realises that she's asking a lot of them by telling them to wait. She knows that the chances of them still being there when she gets back are slim, and that she shouldn't really be bothered if they had decided to leave as soon as she turned her back, but there's that little niggle of something telling her that these kids could use her help – she just hopes they'll let her get close enough to be able to give them it.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and for reviewing - I always like to know what you think, whether it be positive or negative. I know a lot of you have been anticipating this slightly more official meeting __between Callie and Stef...and I'm glad to finally be able to kick start this part of the plot!_

_So, how do you think things will go down when Stef returns? Will Callie and Jude still be there? _

_Let me know your thoughts! - K_


	11. Hostility

_This is a terrible idea_.

The words spin around Callie's head, as if begging her to see the formidable situation that could unfold before her as they wait for Stef to come back.

Sure, she'd said she was only going to grab her wallet, but for all Callie knows, the woman could be wearing a bug and all this could be some kind of police code for: "I've got them cornered, come now and arrest the girl!"

If Callie could have had it her way, then she and Jude would have been on the bus back to San Ysidro the second Stef left to retrieve her wallet. But one look at Jude's hopeful face, that current of desperation his eyes always held when he wanted something, made Callie realise that she had to do this for him. If this is the only way that she can prove to him that her distrust in cops is legitimate, that it isn't just something she's doing to release her stubbornness and rebel against authority, then she'll take her chances. But really, deep down, she can't bear the guilt that will come having to be around Jude's long, moping face for the rest of the day if she dispels his desire to talk with the cop.

She stands on the boardwalk, a state of calm seeming to overcome her exterior. Her lower back hovers over the pretty, iron fence, eyes never leaving Jude who leans against the metalwork with ease as he watches a dog walker trying to wrangle three huge Labradors. But as Jude giggles and pokes at her side, telling her excitedly to '_look over there!', _Callie bites down on her lower lip hard, doing almost anything to stop the scream that threatens to push its way out her throat.

_This is a terrible idea_.

Jude is tugging at the sleeve of her plaid shirt now, letting out shrill giggles that almost penetrate the string of downward spiralling conspiracy theories echoing around her head.

But not quite.

The smell of sea brine mixed with food truck tacos fills her nostrils, making her feel slightly woozy, but she knows this isn't the real cause of her unease.

One look at her face must have said it all, because before she knows it, Jude's gleeful laugh has quietened and his face pales.

"Callie…" Jude says, the apprehension so clear in his eyes it pulls on Callie's heartstrings.

"I'm not mad, baby," she assures him, shaking out of her trance and squeezing his shoulder, although she can't quite look him in the eye. Even though she isn't angry with her brother, she does feel a slight twitch of annoyance that he would undermine her like this, especially considering all she'd taught him about cops in the past.

Squinting against the sun, Jude looks up at her. "She's different, you know. The way she was with me yesterday, the way she looked at me, it kind of reminded me of our Mom."

And Callie does know. She'd felt it too, when the blonde cop had woken her up on the side of the street. The tenderness of her stare and the concern in her voice was something almost foreign to Callie, and as much as it went against her instincts, it _did_ feel nice to have someone genuinely care if she was okay – even if it _was_ a cop.

Unable to really form words, Callie smiles at her brother, although inside, she's screaming with fear. Since when did she become infected so easily by a soft voice and friendly charm? Something must be crowding her instinct to have even allowed the woman in near proximity of her and Jude, and it scares her that her body _wants_ to trust that Stef will do the right thing. That's why she's here, isn't she? She wouldn't have given Jude his own way if she _really_ thought this cop was going to do them harm. Deep down, there is something in her that says this woman has good intentions. It's her head that doesn't trust the blonde, and rightly so; though Jude may believe that Stef is different, Callie has had enough encounters with cops in the past to know that trusting one is one too many, and it's a mistake she won't make again.

When Jude had asked her last night to go to the beach, Callie had, at first, paled at the idea. But the thought of escaping Lance, and leaving the uncertainty of the day before behind – cops, thieving and all – was all too tempting, and the smile on her brother's face topped it all off. They travelled across the city on the crowded bus, and not once had her mind slipped to the terrible events of yesterday or the day before, and as she waited in line for the bathroom, she almost allowed herself to feel a little more than content with how the day was proceeding – until _she_ showed up. Now, thoughts and conspiracy theories ricochet off the walls of Callie's skull, and she's afraid that she'll have another episode like yesterday.

She can feel her palms clamming up, and, if it weren't for the grip Jude has on her hand, she knows for a fact she'd have bolted down the boardwalk by now. The longer they wait, the more time Callie has to analyse the situation and realise just how badly this could turn out. What kind of normal person is so interested in two trashy foster kids? Why is she so intent on helping them, when really, they could be gang members or criminals, for all she knows?

Callie realises that she has to make a decision before the panic completely envelops her, and looking around and catching no sight of the blonde cop, she decides to go with her head. "She's not gonna show. Come on, we can get something to drink when we get back home."

"What? I thought you said we'd wait on her?" Jude pouts, trying to pull his hand out of Callie's, but she only grips it harder.

"Jude, no. We're leaving," she says, her tone taking a sudden authoritative turn as she begins to walk back down the boardwalk, pulling Jude along with her.

Jude pulls his hand from Callie's grasp, shoving her back into the iron fence. "Well, I'm not coming!"

The pain from the collision would have been minor, but with her back still tender and achy from the kicks she'd received from Lance's metal-capped boots, she can't help but gasp at the throb that pulses through her tailbone. As she haunches over to regain her breath, she sees Jude wander off in the general direction Stef went, and sighs. "Jude…"

"No, Callie. She's nice. You can't tell me what to do all the time, you know. I'm not a baby."

His words hit her like a slap in the face, though far harder than any she'd received from angry foster parents over the years. Of course she knew that Jude would eventually grow up, that he would act out and talk back and _become a teenager_, and in all honesty, she wants that kind of normalcy more than anything for him. But seeing him do it now, _here_, in the middle of the boardwalk, is something she hadn't expected, and most definitely wasn't ready for.

Jude notices her hesitation to continue and pauses in his position, waiting for Callie to catch up to him. Studying her jerking movements and paling face, the hardened expression leaves his face and his tone becomes soft. "Why don't you trust her?"

Usually, Callie is an expert at controlling her anger. In the past, all it had taken was one wrong use of attitude, or talking back in the wrong tone of voice, and she and Jude would go a day without being fed, or spanked so hard she wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for days.

But now, all of Callie's past techniques seem to have retired to the back of her mind, and her anger seeps out at the audacity of Jude's words.

"Of course I don't trust her! How can I? We don't even _know _her!"

She isn't sure why she snapped at him, or why her hands have suddenly begun to tremble, but she has a pretty good feeling the blonde woman who keeps trying to dig her nose into their business is the cause of her anxiety. She can feel herself getting worked up just thinking about the plethora of alternate motives this woman could have and just how dangerous this situation could really be if she doesn't get her and Jude out of here right now.

She _hates_ that he is challenging her, hates that he is deliberately trying to exploit her despite knowing how she feels about cops. This new rebellion he possesses makes her angry, and it doesn't even strike her to feel guilty for her harsh retaliation. She wonders if this is what it feels like to be a normal kid who fights with their siblings – the satisfaction of voicing your view on the situation in a louder than appropriate volume giving off enough of an incentive to keep on going. But the look on Jude's face, eyes wide with shock and fear, brings her back down to reality, making her to remember that they aren't 'normal' siblings. They can't afford to 'fight' or 'argue'. They are the Jacob siblings, who cling to each other for all they have, and just _get on _with things because in order to survive in such a harsh, unstable world, they don't have any other option.

"I'm sorry," she says with a shuddering breath. She can barely face him, too ashamed of her childish behaviour, because no matter which buttons Jude decides to press, she should be able to handle it – she is the mother figure, here, after all.

She can feel his stare on her, tickling the exposed skin on her neck as the wind whips at her hair. It makes her uncomfortable not being able to hear his thoughts, almost as uncomfortable as knowing he had to see her break down twice in less than twenty-four hours. She is the strong one – the one half of their package deal that's dependable. How can she keep up such a steady façade after _this_?

In Callie's mind, the cop is to blame. If she hadn't waltzed into their lives, then none of this would have happened. She would still be strong and able, not an anxious, emotional, overanalysing wreckage. Jude would still trust her, he wouldn't be so defiant of her actions that she took to keep him safe. Yes, the cop is _definitely_ to blame. And until she's given a reason not to, Callie will continue to blame her.

"I'm sorry, too."

She looks around, and Jude is close to her. He's leaning against the delicate, iron fence, his shoulders brushing against her arms. She smiles down at him, searching for any sign of his concealment, but is only greeted with a returning grin, and she knows that they are okay for now.

But as she pushes off of the fence and levels her weight back into both her feet, preparing for the long walk back along the boardwalk, she hears Jude sigh.

"I'm not leaving, though, Cal. You can go if you want, but I'm staying here; I'm waiting for her."

At first, she thinks he is kidding – surely after everything, he wouldn't still try to stay? – but by the determination in his voice, she realises that he means it.

The idea of staying makes her lightheaded, but the idea of leaving Jude alone with the cop makes her almost sick. She has to push her insecurities aside – it's not like it's the first time she's been placed in an uncomfortable situation, right? Callie swallows thickly, biting her lip as she speaks. "If you're not leaving, then neither am I."

Jude looks up, surprise evident on his face. "Really?"

"What? You didn't think I was just gonna leave you here, did you?" Callie says, hoping to lighten the atmosphere with her humour. "You're my baby brother," she mumbles into his hair, wrapping her arms around the small boy and squeezing him tight against her.

As Callie looks out across the beach, she sees Stef walking along the boardwalk, eyes scanning the crowds looking for them. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't freaking out inside, screaming, almost, about what's about to come. But she knows that she has to do this for Jude. Maybe he's right. Maybe, the cop deserves a little more of her faith than she'd been willing to dish out before.

oOo

Stef had been watching their interaction for a moment from along the pier, not wanting to disrupt what was obviously a disagreement. She'd watched as the younger boy had pushed the girl, and frowned at the girl's reaction to what should have only been a light wince. It took everything in her not to go over there, to help the girl who was obviously struggling to catch a breath, but she managed to refrain herself, and she's glad she did.

_When she'd headed back for the car, Stef had passed Mariana waiting in line for the bathroom. Her daughter had opened her mouth ready to bombard Stef with twenty questions on where on earth she'd been, but she cut her off, almost demanding the car keys, only stopping when she saw the teen's face fall. _

"_I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to snap. Tell Mama that I had to go do something for work, okay? I'll be back soon."_

_Mariana sighed, desperate to protest and get to the route of the problem. "But where were you? I've been waiting forever for you here."_

_Walking backwards, Stef ignored the pang of guilt that swelled in her stomach _and_ smiled sympathetically at her daughter. "I'll explain later. Promise. I gotta go. Love you!"_

She knows that she'll have trouble explaining this to her family later, but she's willing to take the consequences given the situation. Now, guilt almost forgotten, she makes her way over towards Callie and Jude, trying to pretend like she just didn't witness their fight.

As soon as the dark haired girl spots Stef in the crowd, she pulls out of the embrace with the boy and tucks him into her side, hand grazing over his lower back protectively.

The gesture between the two might seem sweet and innocent, but Stef gets the impression that it's much more than that, and to think why Callie might be so defensive of the younger boy makes her uncomfortable.

Trying her best to appear non-threatening, Stef smiles and keeps a few feet between her and the kids. "Sorry I took so long. Now, who's ready for some soda?"

Soon, they arrive at a little sit in café, one that Stef had chosen deliberately. She feared that if they'd simply bought their drinks from a food truck and sat on the beach, that would leave Callie with an escape route, and she was sure that the girl would flee at any moment if given the opportunity. Instead, they sit under a canopy on the boardwalk, shielded from the hot afternoon sun that beats down hard over the coastline.

As they wait for a server to approach, the silence that fills the table is so painful, Stef finds herself questioning whether this was the right thing to do at all. Anyone else would think she's mad for having such a fixation on these two children, but something about the girl's closed off attitude and shifty stance draws her to them as if they were one of her cases.

"Tap water is fine for us, thanks," Callie says when a Latino man with a notepad asks for their orders.

Stef has to supress the urge to sigh. She can tell by the slump in Jude's shoulders that this isn't what he really wants, and after glancing at Callie, decides to speak up. "Are you sure? How about a Coke? Or a lemonade?"

It's not just the glare that Callie shoots her way that makes her realise maybe she's stepped a little overboard, but the sudden realisation that she doesn't know these kids. Maybe they don't even like soda? Or maybe, like Lena, their mom doesn't approve of them having sugary drinks? She wouldn't blame the woman, even Stef herself shudders when she witnesses Jesus drain cans of the stuff whenever they go to watch Padre's games with her father.

She glances back over at Callie to see the teen's eyes fill with dread, as if she's contemplating what will happen if Jude chooses to take Stef up on her offer. _Maybe she's so insistent on having she and her brother drink tap water because she doesn't want a reason to owe me anything?_ Stef thinks to herself, but dismisses the thought when the server lets out an impatient cough and Jude stumbles over his order.

"Umm, could I…could I have a lemonade?"

"Jude…" Callie warns, almost so quietly Stef has to strain to hear it, but right next to her, the younger boy does.

"Never mind – water is fine," he says, quick to overwrite his previous request.

Stef frowns, folding her hands on the table and looks towards Jude. "Really? You know, you can have the lemonade if you want?"

Again, the little boy glances up at Callie, who looks as if she might burst with rage, or fear – Stef can't quite tell. It hadn't been her mission to make Callie hate her, but so far, she was doing a really good job.

"Can I, Cal?" he almost pleads, and the voice seems to break though the older girl's stony front.

"Are you sure? I don't have any money…" she says to Stef before looking into her hands guiltily. It's the first time Stef has seen this side of her personality, and as silly as it seems, it feels like Callie admitting that she doesn't have any money is a big step forward in getting her to open up.

"Of course. Money isn't an issue here."

Releasing a breath and glancing down at Jude, smiles a little. "Okay."

The little boy is clearly pleased, and judging by her smile, Stef sees that Callie is too. "And you?" Stef asks, hopefully, but the girl's smile falls from her face and she sits up a little straighter in her seat.

"No. Water is fine."

Stef wants to protest – to insist, in fact – that the girl has something more than just a free glass of tap water, but realises that she's even lucky that Callie agreed to come and sit here in the first place; she shouldn't push her luck by insisting on something that is obviously making her uncomfortable.

"Alright. Two lemonades and a water then, please," Stef says, nodding to the man who seems to have grown a little frustrated with the group's continuous indecisiveness.

As they wait for their drinks, Stef learns that Callie and Jude are siblings. She had figured just as much, but now the information has been confirmed, she begins to pick up on their similarities, like their nearly identical cute button noses, and forest brown eyes. The purpling bruises on Callie's cheekbone aren't the only things that set the siblings apart, though; Jude's eyes boast curiousness and interest in the situation and his surroundings, where Callie's seem to be filled with nothing but agitation and dread.

"Who did that to your face?" Stef finds herself wondering aloud, and is almost as shocked as the siblings look to hear her thoughts out in the open.

But Callie quickly covers her surprise. "No one. I walked into a door." The lie rolls off her tongue so easily, as if the girl almost believes it herself – even Jude doesn't seem phased by the clearly ridiculous answer, and it causes Stef to wonder if maybe, it could be the truth. But as she scans the girl, hands fiddling with a gold, coin necklace hanging from her neck, it isn't hard to notice the bruises that bracelet her wrists. Stef swallows hard, not even wanting to imagine how they could have gotten there, and hoping that her suspicions aren't true.

Out the corner of her eye, Stef can see the girl shift uncomfortably as she looks down at the wooden table, and she realises that she's going to have a hard time prying information out of this girl.

"So, what brings you up to Mission Bay?" Stef says, almost humorously in hope to lighten the conversation a little, but her approach quickly dampens when the corners of Callie's mouth turn down.

"What? Are we corrupting your beach or something?" She lets out a breath, shaking her head a little.

"No, no," Stef says, taken aback by the teen's attitude. "It's just, San Yisidro is a little far from here, you know?"

"Well, San Ysidro isn't exactly known for its cool breezes, tranquil waters and soft sand beaches, is it?" Callie replies mockingly, tone laced with insolence. "What brings _you_ to Mission Bay?"

Stef can almost feel herself shrinking back into her seat. If she had thought she knew sassy before, she was wrong. Mariana had her fair share of sassy moments, but her's were normally centred around her inner-diva and provoked by her tormenting brothers. This, though, was a different story. This wasn't just sass: this was survival.

"I'm here with my family," Stef says, but Callie raises an eyebrow, indicating that she already knows this information. "My wife and kids," she elaborates.

"Right," Callie says, smirking disbelievingly, "your _wife."_

"Well, legally we're not actually married, but we're married in our hearts, I guess," Stef says, choosing to ignore Callie's impudent attitude.

"That's basically the same thing though, right?" Jude says, causing Stef's heart to melt at the sweetness of his attitude, and uncorrupted outlook on life.

"Basically, yeah." She smiles, wishing her wife were here to see just how much potential this little boy holds.

"O-kay," Callie says, leaning back slightly in her seat, trying to seem unfazed by the moment of bonding the officer just shared with her brother, but Stef can tell just by the hollow look in her eyes that she's far from comfortable with the situation.

It isn't for the first time, that Stef wishes she could see inside the girl's head, just for a moment, so she can understand exactly what is troubling her, and what is causing her to be so cold shouldered. Just by the way she looks at her brother, Stef knows that the attitude she's displaying isn't her typical one, and Stef hopes she can get to know Callie well enough not to be faced with whatever walls she feels the need to build up around herself.

They sip on their drinks with minimal small talk, although Stef notices that Callie barely touches her glass of water. Jude chats to her nonchalantly about the comic book she had bought him yesterday, and while Stef tries her best to listen, her eyes never leave Callie. The girl is fiddling with something, as if to appear uninterested, but it's no secret that she's hanging on every word of the conversation going on around her.

As the evening air falls upon them, and the sky turns marvellous shades of orange, Stef knows that she'll have to end things soon. She has become so accustomed to Jude's constant silence-filling, jittery conversation and Callie's fearful side glares that she almost forgets that this wasn't why she came to the beach today. Her wife and children will be growing cold as the cool breeze picks up, and the siblings who sit before her have a family they need to get home to, too. It's only then that it dawns on her that neither Callie nor Jude have said a word about their parents.

Curiosity getting the better of her once again, Stef finds herself speaking her thoughts before she can stop them leaving her mouth. "Are your parents here with you?"

The silence she's met with, however, is not something she had anticipated.

* * *

_Hello..._

_I'm a terrible person. I'm sorry for taking such a long hiatus. I unfortunately lost someone really close to me, and I guess you could say that left me somewhat uninspired. But here I am - and I hope if anyone is still reading this that it didn't disappoint. _

_Let me know what you think in the reviews!...Soon, Stef is going to be piecing things together and really acting on her suspicions. _

_Thanks for reading! - K_


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